State of the Farm

What is there to tell you?

We have plenty of frozen chickens looking for bellies to fill.  All but one frozen turkey is claimed.

Garlic planting is truly, abysmally late this year.  There has been too much for James to do and not enough evenings (he and the big kids are in taekwando two nights a week and he teaches at the local college one night a week).  The plan is this weekend.  It's a good thing this year's harvest was beautiful and we have plenty of fresh garlic to enjoy.

Tonight we shifted more chickens.  With hatching new flocks, weeding out the bad in old flocks, and needing to retire a chicken tractor, we've had all kinds of moves.  Four of our oldest hens are now in with the teenagers. Unfortunately, we had to butcher Aragorn, our best rooster, because he was tearing up his ladies.  That's a no-no in a land where roosters are expendable.  Sadly, a juvenile rooster perished shortly after being introduced to his own flock.  I don't know why, since he didn't show signs of injury.  Our oldest chicken tractor will hit the recycle pile this winter, and next spring James will construct a new one.

The summer's downpours did a number on our soil fertility, and I'm not sure how many strawberry plants survived.  They're currently invisible beneath the weeds, and I haven't found a good weeding routine.

The weather is (finally, slightly) cooler.  There's plenty of clean up this fall in preparation for a smaller farm next year.  We may not raise any meat chickens and instead focus on turkeys.  There are big trips in store for next summer, which makes the garden hard to keep.

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

Purgatory Ranch Update

As you may or may not know, we own 40 acres two miles from our house.  Since we don't live on Purgatory Ranch, we tend to not visit when there are no immediate tasks to attend to there.

 It is one of our many dreams to live here someday, but for now, on this spur of the moment trip, I observe that we have our work cut out for us.  There needs to me some mowing and then some tilling.

 Even through the weeds, some tree onions, missed at last year's harvest, are resolutely poking through.

 Work... lots of work...

And maybe we should trim on the driveway.  Another day.

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

Labor

... of various sorts has been transforming life here.

On January 14, the newest member of our family joined us.

On January 19, we began an orchard.  Our almost-a-neighbor tree man is planting a cherry bush, soon to be joined by 7 apples and 2 peaches.

We now call early evening/late afternoon (that time with children that is sometimes called the witching hour) the "bobcat hour," as recently, a bobcat has repeatedly tried to kill our cat.  She is smart, though, and has escaped, although (s)he treed Andromeda once.  We're learning to remember to shut her up in the barn before dark, aka, the bobcat hour.

The weather has been unseasonably warm, and now there are tornado warnings for places to the east and south.  Fortunately, we seem to be confined to possible thunderstorms.  As we could use the rain, bring it on!

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

katie z.

Ringing out the Old Year with Friends

and a brief visit to the land, partially mowed in preparation for fencing.

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

(We're expecting a baby soon, so it may remain quiet around here!)

Apple Raiding

I think, in the relief from the heat, our plants and trees are confused.  Here is a blooming "Delicious"-type apple tree.  It's September!

Last year, I purchased 200 pounds of "juice grade" apples to make applesauce, apple butter, and juice.  We split this with the family at Secondhand Ranch, and decided that 200 pounds was only half of what we needed for a year's worth of apple canning.

This year, at our new house, we've found two nearby families who have productive apple trees but will not be picking any of them!  So far, Q and I have gone twice to fill a bag with apples and walk home.  I estimate we walk about 1/2 mile total each trip, and with 20+ pounds of apples in the bag, this may not be the most efficient method for picking apples for me, at 24 weeks pregnant.  Still, if I drive, I'm not getting exercise.  If I take a wagon, I'm afraid the kids will want to ride on the way home, and I'm certainly not up to 50+ pounds of apples plus 25-60 pounds of children (depending on how many are with me).  Bags it is!

"Pick!  Pick!"  he said and gifted me with these flowers.

Tasting apples for quality!

So far, the family together harvested 20 pounds, Q and I picked up 27 yesterday, and today Q, the Screamer, and I picked up 24.  There are plenty more apples, and we have many more days to harvest.

I'm piling up the rejects so when I return, I don't have to pick through them again.

Bag full of apples

Today I made one batch of applesauce, 4 quarts.  I need a bigger pot!  The canner can hold 7 quarts, but my pot to cook down the apples can only hold about 16 pounds at a time (3/5 of a batch).  When we work at Secondhand Ranch, Myle has propane burners outside and HUGE stockpots to cook down the apples.  We can really get  moving then!

My second problem is my food mill.  It needs to be clamped onto a counter or tabletop.  At our old house, I had to clamp the food mill onto the counter above my dishwasher, which was inconvenient as it required having the washer open.  Here, my counters again are not deep enough to clamp.  My table? It has an angle edge, so the clamp will not stay.  Someday, I will design my own kitchen for canning, and part of it will have deep-lipped counters for just such tools!

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

Planting, hacking, and weeding

A week late is better than never, right?

Our garlic was supposed to be planted by Columbus Day, but I forgot.  Then, I received a notification that our Jerusalem artichokes had shipped, and since those were due to be planted at the land too, maybe it was a good thing I forgot.

After school on Tuesday, we packed up and drove to the land, where I marveled at how quickly weeds will grow.

After hacking down the honey locusts attempting to control the drive, we hacked the foot + tall weeds (yes, next year, we'll be planting a cover crop.  Immediately. after. digging. potatoes... speaking of which, we uncovered another 2 pounds).

Then we planted our artichokes, garlic, and tree onions.  I love planting, freshly dug ground, and doing something to further our self-sufficiency goal.

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

Man's Dignity Through Work

Labor day weekend, for a time if expected laziness, turned out to be full of labor and effort, much to my surprise and pleasure. (I like to have a task list and complete it.)

Saturday, James' truck Grey Dog blew a head gasket, which resulted in James and a neighbor from up the street pushing a dead truck half a mile home. God bless neighbors who help fools like us. After the truck's demise, James and I cleaned out the truck, preparing it for possible repair/disposal. The wagonload of possessions necessitated a plan to clean the garage in the near rather than distant future.

Monday, James cleaned the garage while I weeded, cleared finished garden beds, and tidied the wood pile behind the garage. We are in the midst of removing our compost heaps in favor of less mousy compost barrels. James also completed the awesome task of hanging the ladders on the wall of the garage, protecting them from rot and leaf debris.

After an exciting and unplanned run to the airport, and a delightful, planned excursion to the park with my family, we decided a visit to Purgatory Ranch would round out the long weekend nicely. I had previously proposed that James chop wood while the kids and I pick up sticks, but that AND cleaning out the garage had been deemed too taxing for a day off. Our intention was to enjoy a picnic supper, after which James would fire his Judge.

Upon our arrival to the land we discovered, much to our delight, that the culvert/access onto our land had been completed! The barbed wire fence was still in place, so we could not inaugurate its use, but we were able to admire it. After supper and a stroll to the (still dry and junked) Six Penny Pond, we spied our neighbor to the south, who shall henceforth be called Boomer, waiting for us.

He generously offered the use of his wire clippers, post remover, and post planter (okay, I don't know the actual names for these. I'll ask him next time I see him.). He showed James how to unbend the wire clips holding our saggy baggy barbed wire onto the post. Then he gave James the post remover and James pulled two posts so we could move them to the property line and the other side of the road access. I am amazed at the ingenuity of the inventor of the post planter. The construction, while requiring knowledge for cutting and welding metal pipe, is still uncomplicated but certainly facilitates the replacement of posts.

James also removed a large rock from the middle of the drive (that would have been a "so long oilpan" type of accident). We also marked the location of a tree stump that needs to be removed. We discussed the need for some smoothing of the joint between the new drive and our land. Boomer offered the use of his tractor, but that will have to wait until he has a new tire on it. He patched the tube himself after driving through a field of honey locusts, but didn't have the oomph to put the tire back in place. He told us he had overdone, and James told him next time to call us.

We need to chop/split wood soon. I pray the cool weather holds!

I have lost, somehow in the writing, the sense of work interspersed with friendly conversation and teasing. We have a good neighbor. It's too bad we weren't able to sell our house this summer. Our next venture closer to the land will begin in May. For now, we will have to content ourselves with frequent visits.

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

James would like a few of these...

from a small herd in Hays, Kansas, where we recently attended a diaconate ordination.

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