The warm days and rain have paid off and the flood from the garden has begun. Yesterday I picked, blanched and froze over 9 pounds of green beans. I also picked the yellow and burgundy beans (about 9 pounds there too). We are practically swimming in beans. Yesterday also was our first suppertime taste of sweet peas (got over 3 pounds of those). Herbs are getting tall, the corn is filling out, and the broccoli would be lovely were it not for the chickens' continuing munching of the leaves.
Today is hot day #2 this week; the cows are all sitting under the shade tree, the pool is ever so inviting, and the chickens stick to the shade except when they mount a sneak attack on the veggies. Outside work beckons, and as I work I think some more. A few extra garden boxes for R's planned foray into farmers' markets next year, a place to plant potatoes - what to do, where to do it...
Tuesday, 31 July 2007
Monday, 30 July 2007
sounds
I spent over four hours yesterday sitting alone. Sunday morning was the usual busy and fun time at church, our little congregation bolstered by the presence of 140 teens in the city with a group called 'World Changers'. These folks had come from all over the place, including New York, Virginia, and Florida, to spend a week around Ottawa helping people in practical ways - house fixups, minor construction. Very cool.
Then at 3:00, I went down to the creek, set up a camp chair and umbrella, book in one hand and water in the other, and mounted guard over a bonfire. The pile of scrap wood will not go away on its own, and since we have not been adding to it much recently, I did make a dent. I was there, mostly alone, until supper time when D brought down a picnic, and then stayed after the others left for an hour more.
There are sounds only heard when one sits alone for so long. It's as if nature is shy until you sit quietly enough to assuage her fears, then she feels like she can tell you some secrets. There was, of course, the crackling of the fire and the hiss as wood slid down into the ashes. Another constant was the light burbling of the brook. Not the rush of its high-water days, but a gentle sound as it hopped over the rocks at the ford. A robin flew in and had a delightful bath in the shallows. The tall grass swished as the wind blew through it. Birds whose calls I didn't recognize sang out their chirps to each other. No words to complicate it. It was, in a word, peaceful.
My walk back to the house in the gathering dusk was one of some satisfaction. I looked at our little house, the freshly-mown grass looking green-gold and tidy as the sun hit it at the perfect angle, my veggie garden growing happy and healthy, the front field's grass (sorghum wheat, I think the farmer said) backlit and lovely, the old maples looking as stolid and respectable as such trees should.
Then at 3:00, I went down to the creek, set up a camp chair and umbrella, book in one hand and water in the other, and mounted guard over a bonfire. The pile of scrap wood will not go away on its own, and since we have not been adding to it much recently, I did make a dent. I was there, mostly alone, until supper time when D brought down a picnic, and then stayed after the others left for an hour more.
There are sounds only heard when one sits alone for so long. It's as if nature is shy until you sit quietly enough to assuage her fears, then she feels like she can tell you some secrets. There was, of course, the crackling of the fire and the hiss as wood slid down into the ashes. Another constant was the light burbling of the brook. Not the rush of its high-water days, but a gentle sound as it hopped over the rocks at the ford. A robin flew in and had a delightful bath in the shallows. The tall grass swished as the wind blew through it. Birds whose calls I didn't recognize sang out their chirps to each other. No words to complicate it. It was, in a word, peaceful.
My walk back to the house in the gathering dusk was one of some satisfaction. I looked at our little house, the freshly-mown grass looking green-gold and tidy as the sun hit it at the perfect angle, my veggie garden growing happy and healthy, the front field's grass (sorghum wheat, I think the farmer said) backlit and lovely, the old maples looking as stolid and respectable as such trees should.
Wednesday, 25 July 2007
visiting pierre-auguste
With the kids in day camp this week and goaliemom visiting, she and I got to spend the day in such pursuits as exploring the Byward Market, going into shops, having a leisurely lunch, and taking in the Renoir Landscapes exhibit at the National Art Gallery.
I discovered a few things:
1. Renoir's work has a great deal of variety to it, some paintings vastly different from the others. It was interesting to see his style vary through the exhibit.
2. I prefer Monet's works, this going from my memories of the Monet exhibit in 2002.
3. I did not realize that a bunch of these artists (Renoir, Monet, and others) were all friends at the time - what a collection of people that must have been! I wonder if they had any idea what their works would become. Not likely.
4. Even the great masters sometimes fired off paintings for money - I noticed that many of the paintings had been done for his selling agent. Artists had to live too, I guess.
5. I just don't get modern abstract art. Sorry. Goaliemom and I went through that part of the gallery after the Renoir part and our general reaction was, "huh?"
I discovered a few things:
1. Renoir's work has a great deal of variety to it, some paintings vastly different from the others. It was interesting to see his style vary through the exhibit.
2. I prefer Monet's works, this going from my memories of the Monet exhibit in 2002.
3. I did not realize that a bunch of these artists (Renoir, Monet, and others) were all friends at the time - what a collection of people that must have been! I wonder if they had any idea what their works would become. Not likely.
4. Even the great masters sometimes fired off paintings for money - I noticed that many of the paintings had been done for his selling agent. Artists had to live too, I guess.
5. I just don't get modern abstract art. Sorry. Goaliemom and I went through that part of the gallery after the Renoir part and our general reaction was, "huh?"
Tuesday, 24 July 2007
useful farm tip #58
When a herd of cattle escapes and trots down the creek and you go after them with a bucket of grain to entice them back, wear something a little less open than crocs over bare feet. Eeeww. Why is my foot suddenly slippery inside my shoe? Oh.
The chase was accomplished, with a few slightly tense moments as the excited herd (30 plus if you include the calves, and since they each are weighing more than me, I include them) realized that grain was to be had back at their fenced area and started galloping back. Cows do gallop, you know. And they like to kick up their heels while they do it. It looks very amusing unless they are doing it a few feet away from you - then it's unnerving. I was recalling the stampede scene in The Lion King for a bit there.
And I must confess that as I ran after them, trying to watch for the all-too obvious evidence that they had passed this way, and not always succeeding (see the first paragraph), my mind had two distinct channels: "grumble grumble, stupid cows, I'm trying to make supper here and they have to go for a walk" and "wheee! this is fun!"
I did smile. That part of me usually gets me to smile. She's funny that way.
The chase was accomplished, with a few slightly tense moments as the excited herd (30 plus if you include the calves, and since they each are weighing more than me, I include them) realized that grain was to be had back at their fenced area and started galloping back. Cows do gallop, you know. And they like to kick up their heels while they do it. It looks very amusing unless they are doing it a few feet away from you - then it's unnerving. I was recalling the stampede scene in The Lion King for a bit there.
And I must confess that as I ran after them, trying to watch for the all-too obvious evidence that they had passed this way, and not always succeeding (see the first paragraph), my mind had two distinct channels: "grumble grumble, stupid cows, I'm trying to make supper here and they have to go for a walk" and "wheee! this is fun!"
I did smile. That part of me usually gets me to smile. She's funny that way.
Friday, 20 July 2007
little things
The rain did come, it was constant overnight and with lots of lightning and thunder to boot. It was pretty well varying between lots of rain and even more lots of rain. Very nice, though I was awake a fair bit wondering if the pool would overflow (it's close, so I'll pump out some of the water later today), and are the windows all closed, just how close is the lightning, and with the wind from that direction will the roof leak? The chickens this morning walked outside then came back it to give me the "you're joking, right?" look, and the creek, which was down to a trickle, now looks full and healthy again. The frogs will be happy.
Plenty was accomplished yesterday, from woodworking in the chicken coop (no more roosting on the window sill) to stacking wood to ironing to band rehearsal prep to admin work on the computer for all sorts of things.
This evening brings the very important question: all girls at a sleepover. What to do? It's a tossup between a downtown jazz club (top choice), or a pub & movie, or picking up lobsters to have at home.
Plenty was accomplished yesterday, from woodworking in the chicken coop (no more roosting on the window sill) to stacking wood to ironing to band rehearsal prep to admin work on the computer for all sorts of things.
This evening brings the very important question: all girls at a sleepover. What to do? It's a tossup between a downtown jazz club (top choice), or a pub & movie, or picking up lobsters to have at home.
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