It was comical, watching the radar this week. The rainstorms were all around us, big wet moving blotches that came toward us and then skirted around us at the last second.
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More very hot weather this week, with some humidity thrown in, but no rain. The soil is 77 degrees two inches down.
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You want the good news or the bad news? Bad first, to get it out of the way. The rain missed us almost entirely.
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The stretch of sweltering days felt oppressive this week, not only for us humans, but for the animals. We took frequent dips in the farm pond, with maybe a little skinny dipping after dark.
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We said goodbye to Jake the Great Pyrenees livestock guardian dog this week.
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It has been a week of reckoning for our nation, and here, with myself. I’ve thought of myself as the type of mother who doesn’t shield children from hard things.
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Farmer phenology says to plant corn when the oak leaves are the size of a squirrel’s ears.
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Forgive the break in farm news, all. I’ve been in the lambing vortex for the last couple weeks, while also pushing through renovations on the upstairs of our house, and getting word out about paperback publication of Good Husbandry.
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According to the calendar, lambing starts in five days, but tell that to the lambs already on the ground.
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I’ve never been so grateful for the bustle of spring. Some years I brace against what I know is coming, but this year, I welcome it.
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I am a bit late on the note this week, and so the New York City pack is happening as I type. Pack day is always a busy one full of details and logistics, capably led by Kathleen and Caitlin.
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We know how bad it is out there. We sense the threat to health and to the economy, and the general unbearable uncertainty.
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The equinox comes this week. The earth is rolling into the light of spring, just as civilization is rolling toward shadowy uncertainty. Schools closed here on Monday and the children are home for the duration.
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What a difference a week makes. Last week we were talking about seed order and castration techniques. This week we are talking about social distancing and flattening curves, and taking a deep dive into statistical analysis.
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The girls and I are home and catching up from our two week grand tour of Utah. We met lots of farmers, signed some books, saw our first dessert…
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The books are closed on 2019, and now it’s time to open the seed catalogues and begin planning for spring.
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I adore beginnings. It’s not the boozy end of a year that I look forward to but the washed clean slate of the next day, when the horizon feels entirely clear of regret, and full of potential.
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Miranda and Quill and I are away, visiting with my mother, so I am reporting the farm news from afar. We hope everyone is enjoying this holiday week and gathering energy for 2020.
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Forgive the long break between farm notes, all. My father died November 30 after a long battle with leukemia and I have found it difficult to sit down and write.
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Things went from cold and hard to warm and mushy this week, a state that is more in line with the calendar.
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