It hailed last night. Stormed mightily. So, upon arrival to the land, our neighbor to the south (who we always provide with a good laugh) informed me that I was "just like a city farmer. Always showin' up after the storm." Hey, I mentioned it hailed. Do you think the van will look any better with a second round of hail damage? Methinks not.
Our kiwis look like someone to a blow-torch to them, so they are dead. Meanwhile, the gooseberries, castoffs of my brother, are sprouting from the roots, and the blueberries are greening up nicely. The pond has mud at the bottom, which has not been the case for MONTHS.
The men marked out where Dan's windbreak will go at their future home. By the time they finished that, it was a little warmer than I can take (I'm a redhead, and apparently don't adjust well to heat. I like think I'm not a wimp as I did deliver three babies without an epidural or much pain medicine, and James is too gentlemanly to suggest such a thing). They also hoed the potatoes.
|Purple, red, yellow and green stakes = homes for future windbreak trees|
|Garlic and tree onions thriving on neglect|
|First potato sprouts|
James still says we should have named the land something OTHER than Purgatory Ranch, but I think he's stuck.
Until next time, remember, this is not paradise. It's Purgatory Ranch.