It has been a long time since I stayed up until 3 a.m. messing with travel plans and emailing people who live several time zones ahead of me. Please imagine what kind of a mood I was in when then, at 6, I stumbled out to let the cheepers out. (Hint: rhymes with weepy.)
Ed, too, had been up late, but he is (lucky him) quite capable of sleeping through the whole saga of sun rising, rooster crowing, cat meowing. Me, I'm wide awake now, so I may as well be the one up.
(fields to the north, just before sunrise)
But as I make my way to the fenced in coop, I hear the familiar noises of Scotch, our most vocal hen. She comes toward me, a touch groggy but otherwise with all feathers in tact.
What are you doing outside the coop and on this side of the fence?!? I ask her, but she just does her cackling noises and follows me to where the rest of the cheepers are clamoring to get out. I unlatch the door, they go out, she goes in and catches up on eating.
So what happened here? Why did she spend the night outside?
Ed?
In fact, it's easy to have missed her. She has always put herself to sleep in the coop. Always. The other hens doze off on the fence and each night, Ed gently picks them up and places them within, but Scotch is a self-help girl and no one ever bothers to check on her, because she's the kid who always knows the rules. She doesn't need a lift and carry. She puts herself inside.
Scotch (and Butter) on the run
But not last night. And not henceforth. Ed finds her tonight, up with the white hens, snuggled against them. How sad she must have been yesterday, to see the other two carried away while she was left behind! Lucky -- that's what she was. No one had her for dinner. She survived. Lucky.
In other news?
Well, after breakfast...
... Ed picks tomatoes -- which had been fun to imagine and anticipate when we were planting the seeds in March, and still exciting when we watched them sprout in April, and exhilarating when we put the tiny plants in the soil in June, but now, in September, you just want them all to be done already. It doesn't help that we've shared some with bugs and beasts, so you have to pick very carefully. Every two days or so, until the first frost.
The corn we planted is at its final stage. Pick now, or give it up. The cucumbers, too, are wrapping it up. Beans are done, peas too. Only the watermelons are straggling. They are just now about the size of eggplant. It was not a good idea to plant watermelon seeds into the ground in July.
So this is the end of the growing season for us. And it feels right to finally let go.
Tonight, Ed comes back late after one of the final evening bike rides of the season. So late that we're all on the brink of sleep. And still, I take out a wooden board, throw some cheeses on it and we munch. All three of us. (Isis likes strong cheeses.) It is such a good way to end a very long day!
Ed, too, had been up late, but he is (lucky him) quite capable of sleeping through the whole saga of sun rising, rooster crowing, cat meowing. Me, I'm wide awake now, so I may as well be the one up.
(fields to the north, just before sunrise)
But as I make my way to the fenced in coop, I hear the familiar noises of Scotch, our most vocal hen. She comes toward me, a touch groggy but otherwise with all feathers in tact.
What are you doing outside the coop and on this side of the fence?!? I ask her, but she just does her cackling noises and follows me to where the rest of the cheepers are clamoring to get out. I unlatch the door, they go out, she goes in and catches up on eating.
So what happened here? Why did she spend the night outside?
Ed?
In fact, it's easy to have missed her. She has always put herself to sleep in the coop. Always. The other hens doze off on the fence and each night, Ed gently picks them up and places them within, but Scotch is a self-help girl and no one ever bothers to check on her, because she's the kid who always knows the rules. She doesn't need a lift and carry. She puts herself inside.
Scotch (and Butter) on the run
But not last night. And not henceforth. Ed finds her tonight, up with the white hens, snuggled against them. How sad she must have been yesterday, to see the other two carried away while she was left behind! Lucky -- that's what she was. No one had her for dinner. She survived. Lucky.
In other news?
Well, after breakfast...
... Ed picks tomatoes -- which had been fun to imagine and anticipate when we were planting the seeds in March, and still exciting when we watched them sprout in April, and exhilarating when we put the tiny plants in the soil in June, but now, in September, you just want them all to be done already. It doesn't help that we've shared some with bugs and beasts, so you have to pick very carefully. Every two days or so, until the first frost.
The corn we planted is at its final stage. Pick now, or give it up. The cucumbers, too, are wrapping it up. Beans are done, peas too. Only the watermelons are straggling. They are just now about the size of eggplant. It was not a good idea to plant watermelon seeds into the ground in July.
So this is the end of the growing season for us. And it feels right to finally let go.
Tonight, Ed comes back late after one of the final evening bike rides of the season. So late that we're all on the brink of sleep. And still, I take out a wooden board, throw some cheeses on it and we munch. All three of us. (Isis likes strong cheeses.) It is such a good way to end a very long day!
Waking in the morning is an enjoyable part of my day and I like to do it gradually. Cheepers would have me off to a very cross start.
ReplyDeleteTomatoes, so much to do with tomatoes! We have dehydrated a bunch. In our trees are many cardinals who think the tomatoes are planted especially to wet their beaks! One dive, one juicy peck, one ripe ruined tomato! We had to put a roll of netting around that area.
You seldom mention wine, which I enjoy and desire :) every night. With strong cheeses, a deep dark robust red.
Where are you going next? I am ready! I'm only going to...Cleveland...
I have taken a crash course in how to work with tomatoes that are often damaged by one thing or another. We freeze them in gallon bags. I wash them and carve out any part that is even slightly damaged and then pack them in whole and dump that in our freezer box. This gives us tomatoes for chillies and soups all winter long. I don't bother peeling them. Ed thinks it's wasteful and for the two of us, it hardly matters. Nearly all our tomatoes grow on fallen plants. On woodchips, so they are not messed up by contact with the soil. Some of the varieties do better with this lazy gardener method than others. Trouble is, Ed brings in all the tomatoes he thinks are just fine -- way too many. So when he carts in a load, I need to quickly dispose of ones that are over ripe or rotten or severely damaged. There! More than you ever wanted to know about our tomato preservation strategies!
ReplyDeleteAs for wine -- I love it and cannot imagine dinner without it. Most of the summer trips to France have included long visits in wineries. Bringing back wines packed tightly in a suitcase used to be a priority, but I have stopped doing that mostly because Ed doesn't drink it and my daughter -- the one who is here for dinner weekly -- is happiest with Cava or craft beers (when she is not pregnant). Rare is the visitor to the farmhouse who would care about wine. Still, to me, wine frames an evening. I prefer white or rose and I think of it as an important accompaniment to food. Including that late night snack of cheese and crackers!
Where to next? Europe. On September 15th. I love the farmette, but I am so ready for another travel adventure!
Only three hours of sleep. Now I would be grumpy the whole day, but no, you carry on and make a great day of farmette living. I love your tomato preservation strategies....very smart way to deal with your huge harvest. And wine with cheese...absolutely!!
ReplyDeleteAh, we've shared many a lovely, fresh rose! Why is Florida so darn far?!
DeleteI know. I miss the rose and the conversation that flows with it. Maybe you can do one of your complicated flying routes through TPA!
Delete