Planting

 March 14, we began the process of planting out at Purgatory Ranch.  First, this required mowing.

 Since we're adding a new bed this year, James mowed the entire triangle.  Dust was flying, but we tried to keep top soil loss to a minimum.

 That was it for the evening, especially after the brakes locked up on our trailer and caught fire just as we reached home.

 March 15, James organized a delivery of 8 tons (maybe more) of composted cow manure.  He then proceeded to till our  beds.  Meanwhile, I made a trip or two home and cut potatoes.  And cut potatoes. Did I mention we purchased 140 pounds of potatoes this year?

 We brought fishing wire and yarn to mark our rows, keeping me from my inability to plant anything in a straight line.

 50 pounds of potatoes later (Yukon gold in the south bed and Viking plus leftover Yukon in the north bed) meant we were out of space with only 1/3 of our crop planted.  Aiyiyi.

 There was a little mishap with a shovel as well!  (You know us... there's always a mishap.)

Weather brought excitement in the form of hail, high winds, and 1.5" of rain, which we definitely needed.  It also enforced no more planting for most of spring break, as it was too wet.

More potatoes (most of the remaining) were planting at Secondhand Ranch on the 20th.  From the south, we planted 12 rows: (1-2) Kennebec, (3-4) eastern half Kennebec, western half Red Lasota, a new variety for us, (5-6) Red Norland, (7-8) western tip R. Norland, mainly Russet Burbank, east tip Dakota, and finally 9-12 was all Dakota Crisp.  All told, we planted 25 pounds each of Kennebec, Yukon Gold, Red Norland, Dakota Crisp, and Purple Viking.  We also planted 10 pounds of Russet Burbank and 5 of Red Lasota.

Finally, we were able to plant out 14 bundles of onions on the 22nd.  With 6 bundles of Candy, 2 of Red Candy, 2 Texas SuperSweet, 2 Southern Belle, and 2 Vidalia, it was a busy time.  For record keeping purposes, we planted east to west in this order: (1) Vidalia, (2) Red Candy, (3) Texas Supersweet, (4-5) Southern Belle, (6-11) Candy, and (12-13) Red Candy.

To wrap up our planting, James eked out a few rows of All Blue at Yahweh Jireh Acres as well as a few rows of remaining Dakota Crisp.

Whew!

Until next time, remember, this is not paradise.  It's Purgatory Ranch.

Radio Silence

We interrupt our silence with a brief note...

It's crazy around here!  Between the rain, cold, and small children, we are frantically attempting to complete a myriad of urgent projects. In the midst of the insanity, thanks to the rain and a downed downspout, we now are also battling mold and a wet office.  The computer is in said office, so pictures are difficult to upload.  Hence, no photos.

Some projects... Planting our 300+ tomatoes along with beans, peppers, herbs, sweet potatoes, and various vines.  Finishing a turken tank and guinea coop.  Right now, we move the guineas outside daily and back in nightly.  Ever-present mowing.  Cutting down dead trees, bushes, etc., that did not survive last summer's devastating heat and replacing them

Until next time, remember, this is not paradise.  It's Purgatory Ranch.

Beautiful Day

The day began with gentle rain, just sprinkles really, and a beautifully cool air temperature.

We bought peaches straight off a truck from Colorado.  The Screamer already ate a whole one (she's not a great eater, so this is fabulous) and has been begging for more.

A visit to the land, which added only a few miles to our trip, was in order.  I cut open the survivor tomato we had brought home, but the thing was SEEDLESS.  Seedless, I tell you!  Why does it have to be complicated.

The mother plant is grasshopper-mauled, so there were virtually no leaves left.  Of the leaves remaining, most were suckers hidden in the heart of the plant.  We pulled off three suckers to try to root them and grow three new plants.  Also, we picked the last remaining (ripe) tomato in the hopes that it will not follow its sibling and be seedless.

Walking in the cool weather felt glorious.  We visited our neighbor to the south and discussed weather, weeds (we have too many growing in our erstwhile potato patch), old age (his, not ours!), and watched another neighbor back into his mailbox.

Onwards to the work of the day, making pickles with Myle!  She had cut enough pickles for 5 batches of pickles.  We made two, and she was working on more when we left.  Canning is incredibly easier this year, now that we have a better concept of timing and how to prep for the actual canning.

The Assistant tangled with a bike and lost, leaving a bloody trail at Second Hand Ranch, and is now sporting a fat lip, bloody nose, and bum knee.  We met Chocolate Black, a miniscule mouser.

Next week, we should have peach salsa coming out our ears!  I anticipate the challenge with relish.

Until next time, remember, this is not paradise.  It's Purgatory Ranch.

The Fourth Day

"And God said, 'Let the water teem with living creatures, and let birds fly above the earth across the vault of the sky.'” Gen. 1:20

DG here. Remember when we were thwarted by Bureaucrats? Our Purgatory Ranch (PR) future was torn in two. One family would build at PR, and the other must cast out into the deep! So I slunk back to suburbia, back to my rock that I can crawl under and brood. (C.f.: Suess's Onceler and His Lurkem) But then, a wonderful opportunity came along, an opportunity to make Purgatory Ranch better by expanding and deepening its community. And behold, a new ranch was born.

My family has purchased 10 acres approximately 4 miles from PR proper. Nearly everything we own is a castoff, scavenged, adopted (kids and animals as you'll see) or bought used. Thus, our humble 10 acres is dubbed "Second Hand Ranch" (SHR). Think of it as the staging point for PR, and its little sister to the northwest.

While this blog is still about Purgatory ("Remember..."), every once and a while we will give you a glimpse of life at SHR. It's like Tanto's side-plot to the Lone Ranger. Which brings us to the Birds.

Our Plan: Slowly build up a homestead. God's Plan: Let there be chickens. And other flying crap.

We heard tell of some animals that were for sale at a bargain basement price. A friend of a friend was moving back into the city, and needed to cast off some flying stock. Chickens? Cheap? We were interested. We drove by the seller's farm and entered... an avian sideshow.

I will attempt to capture this in the pristine typeset of blogger.com. The "chickens" of our naive imagination had now transfigured before our eyes into a pole barn full of feathered friends. For half a Benjamin, we were to receive 7 Bantam chickens, 2 Guineas, 2 Turkeys, 2 Ducks, and 1 Goose. Daunted but not repulsed, we meekly said we'd take them, and I retreated to rally logistics. At no time did I ask myself, "Self, what in the #$%^@& are we going to do with Turkeys, Ducks, and a Goose?" To quote John Candy's character from Canadian Bacon, "There's a time to think, and a time to act. And this is no time to think!"

We returned the next week, armed with 7 dog carriers and reinforcements. The dog carriers were for the birds and the reinforcements, as it turned out, were to heckle. I was wearing work gloves, sturdy boots, and the cloak of naivete'. The birds, docile when being viewed previously, turned malignant upon my approaching their enclosure. The goose was mostly bark, but the turkeys? The turkeys were vile. Also, there was (magically) a third gobbler. Bigger than the others. Where did he come from? The coop was the inside of the northern quarter of a tall Wick-style lean-to, with chicken wire running to the rafters. It looked a lot like Thunderdome.

There was some discussion of whom to take first. My dad offered some sage advice, in the hypothetical sense. HE wasn't going in there! Biggest first, we decided. I entered the Arena. I reached for the nearest duck and it was ON. Like Donkey Kong.

What ensued was a grand spectacle. Feathers, expletives, birds, rocks, and poop flew. The general tactic devolved to:
1. Pick a bird
2. Chase it until it gets cornered
3. Smash it down and pin its wings
4. Run to the nearest available dog carrier
5. Jam it in

At first I was trying to be gentle. After gently chasing burds and only succeeding in scaring them, I went for shock and awe. After a few chickens, guineas, and a duck, I learned to hold me hands and arms over my head, walking like Frankenstein. This apparently scares them and prevents them from flying because you look so freakishly tall. They mostly cower and you can smash and pin.

Oh, but there's one thing. Turkeys. Yeah, none of that works on them. The first turkey I approached opened its generous (Read: terrifying) wingspan, flapped as if fanning the very furnaces of Hell, and attacked my face in its flight to freedom. Bounced off South wall, East wall, and then promptly flew the coop. It settled into a roost in a tall tree, looking very indignant. We were at a loss.

What works for turkeys, I can say now, is a modification of the general tactic. I like to call it "Turkey Rodeo". You lunge and grab, essential roll into the fetal position to protect your eyes and face, then hold on for dear life. After about 10 seconds, the turkey stops flapping to see if you are still there. Then pin and runnnnnn!

By perseverance, a lot of scrambling on hands and knees in chicken/duck/guinea/goose/turkey poo, throwing stuff for distraction, and yelling at small semi-flightless fowl, I managed to load the back of my truck with about 120 lbs. of pissed of birds stacked like a Jenga game in the bed. Thus began a very interesting 6 mile voyage back to Second Hand Ranch. Driving 20 mph is advisable. Any faster, and the two turkeys simultaneously went vertical, lifting their dog carrier about half a foot and scaring the bejeebers out of their fellow avian passengers. And me. Fortunately, my fellow motorists were understanding. At least once they figured out what the heck was in my bed.

James and I had prepped a coop and run the day before. Before de-birding my pickup, my Dad and I threw a tarp over the run and wired it down. The chickens were eerily quiet. Even the turkeys seemed beat. Had they survived? I was worried. We had somehow bonded in the harrowing cage fight. My little feathered friends were good, pleasing to the eye, and desirous for making eggs.

I moved the carriers inside the covered run and some birds came out. Others had to be coaxed. The turkeys... well I admit I just shoved the unlatched carrier into the darkened coop. We left them with water and some food. They went straight to roost. They seemed so peaceful. Then I realized- what if we had moved them AFTER they roosted? Duh.

The next morning, the roosters (2) went to it. A marvelous sound. All the birds were up and alert. I let them free range and they happily began working on the surplus SHR bugs. Each has their own personality, and the turkeys are my favorite... of course!

This should be a nice preliminary to when James and Co. get their own flock. Perhaps they will learn from our mistakes!