Compost is go

This post is coming late after quite a whirlwind weekend, but I'm just now recovering enough from all the hard work to actually write about it!

I woke up on Saturday morning around 7:00 am, got the farm chores out of the way, and then headed out to one of our local farmer's markets with my mother and stepfather. The Countryside Conversancy market was the first one to open this year, so I figured I'd give them a shot - this is my first season of farmer's markets in my new home, so I haven't quite scoped out my favorites yet.

It turned out to be a great market. It was held in a huge field along a State Park, with volunteers directing traffic for parking, and vendors sprawled out along the field in long rows. The atmosphere was casual and friendly, with a live band playing and lots of laughter and chatting to be heard. I brought Bandit along, who thoroughly enjoyed the trip and made lots of new friends. He is a very shy dog, but by the end of the morning, he was actually making a pest of himself, approaching everyone within reach.

We came home with a tote bag full of fresh, grass-fed beef and buffalo hamburger patties, a dozen pastured, free-range eggs, a basket of monster heirloom Brandywine tomatoes, a bunch of spinach, one of the biggest heads of brocolli I've ever seen, a bag full of wonderfully sweet and crisp snap peas, homemade goat's milk fudge, and homemade chevre. There is really nothing like a farmer's market!

When we got back, we grilled up the hamburgers, and had unexpected company drop in for lunch. The hamburgers were absolutely delicious, and the spinach tossed in a homemade sweet-and-sour dressing was terrific too. Of course, everything tastes better when eaten under sunshine, and with good company to boot.





After lunch, we got to work on the new compost bins. I'd been composting all autumn and winter, but the pile that was sprawled out behind the coop was getting unruly, hungrily eating up the lawn as it spread bigger and bigger. Not to mention that turning it daily was a messy job, and just served to make the place look even more disheveled.

To solve the problem, I designed a 3-bin system behind the barn that allows for seperate composting stages: active (adding new material), curing (already full, just letting it cook), and finished (just like it sounds, storage of the finished compost ready to use). My stepfather and I hauled nearly 100 cement paving stones into place to form the base, then built the timber frame on top. The dimensions of the system are 10' long x 8' deep x 4' tall - plenty of space to accomodate lawn clippings, chicken shavings, fall leaves and whatever else might get thrown in there.

The worst part of the job was actually heaving the compost pile from its old location into the bin. I'm sure I lost about 5 pounds in sweat over a two-hour period of shoveling and raking. Byron came out later in the day and planted new grass seed where the pile had been, so hopefully by the end of the week, new green shoots will be poking through once again.

After all this work, I was really, really happy to have a hammock to come home to. Bandit and I just kinda flopped up onto it together, and I think I was out the minute my head hit the ropes. I don't know how long I napped, but by the time I woke up, my family had come back from their own chores, and we spent the night out at the fire pit eating fudge, pretzels, and buffalo jerky.

If only all weekends could be quite this good!

To-do list

Some days, the to-do list is absolutely overwhelming. Today was one of those days!

I didn't actually accomplish the things on this list today, unfortunately. It's just the list of things I absolutely NEED to do in the next week. It's going to be a rough one:

-Clean out boxes and junk in studio; reorganize and set up furniture; figure out a way to vent the spray booth out the window or wall
-Finish paint touchups on a resin model that needs to be shipped by Friday
-Finish painting yet another resin model that needs to be auctioned off by the end of June
-Buy 5 bags of pine shavings for coop at Smith Bros. Mulch
-Buy 3 bags of chicken feed from Meyer Hatchery
-Clean out chicken coop (see next item)
-Level the ground behind a portion of the barn with extra compost, lay pavers as foundation for compost bin, and build wooden compost bin boxes; fill bin #1 with nearly-finished compost, fill bin #2 with grass clippings and chicken coop shavings
-Plan, and build, veggie gardens; add soil/compost mix and plant seedlings (which unfortunately took a nosedive over the weekend)
-Figure out where the snakes' misting system is leaking and fix it, so the cages can be pushed back against the wall and the room cleaned up

Not to mention all the usual daily chores such as feeding and watering the animals, cleaning the litterbox and kennel, watering plants, normal housechores and cooking.

Anyone want a job as a farm assistant? I can pay you in homemade bread and pasta...

Oh glorious day

We now have a fully-functional hammock.

Bandit's big date

Bandit was a very lucky pup today. A friend of mine invited us over to celebrate the 13th birthday of her Husky girl, Nikki. I'm sure Willow would have loved to tag along, but she doesn't always play nicely with other girls.

Of course, Bandit was very happy to meet such a cute new friend, but he was his typical shy self at first. By the end of the day, they were best buddies, and 13-year-old Nikki was absolutely running circles around him!




Beautiful Nikki is still going strong at 13 years of age. It's a testament to the wonderful care that her owner, Mallory, has provided for her.


At first, Bandit kept a respectful distance from Nikki.


But, it wasn't long before they started to play!


Nikki says, "How about a little kiss?" Bandit says, "Umm... but it's only our first date!"

Close calls

I came close to losing this chick tonight.

I really believe that you are never closer to the cycle and life and death than on a farm. Today was one of those days that really reinforced that belief for me.

Earlier this week, the young Polish chicks I've been raising in my sunroom brooder finally made the journey out to the coop, to join their slightly older flockmates. After a few days of careful separation and supervision, I finally let them free in the coop and pen to forage and sunbathe with the others.

The temperatures were beautiful all week - warm, sunny, and in the mid 70's - but they really took a nosedive earlier today, plummeting back to the mid 50's. I checked the weather, and saw there was a frost advisory for tonight with temps in the 30's! Temps this low just aren't safe for young chicks who have yet to develop all their feathers. Even for adult hens, it means flipping on the heat lamp I keep attached to the coop ceiling.

With these temps in mind, I doubled up in a warm sweatshirt and walked out to the coop to put the girls to bed. I shut them safely in their coop every night, and usually I find them already half-asleep on their roosts by the time I arrive. As I laid down a thick bed of fresh straw to help insulate them overnight, I did my nightly chicken count - and came up short.

One of my young Polish chicks was missing.

As I looked around the pen anxiously, I caught a little scurry of movement out of the corner of my eye. Half-hidden underneath the coop (in a space only 3" off the ground) was the missing Polish, looking tired and a little scared, settling down here and there only to get back up and peep. The woven wire fencing I had installed to block the space under the coop was in vain - apparently there was a back entrance I didn't know about before. The temps still hadn't dropped to dangerous levels, but I knew that if I didn't get her out by nightfall, she would fall asleep under there, and not wake up tomorrow morning. It was a terrible, terrible feeling.

I cut a small hole out of the woven wire fence with bolt cutters, grabbed a handful of grain and threw it in front of the hole. For a little over an hour, as I watched the sun setting, I sat hushed in front of that hole, waiting and praying that the little chick would venture out. Several times she poked her head through, only to disappear again.

Thankfully, she finally did squeeze through the hole - and it was the most wonderful feeling to scoop her up in my hands and carry her safely back to her home in the coop. I lined the chicks' bed with fresh straw and threw down an extra cup of chick feed for her and her siblings, and watched as they all huddled together to sleep. I'm pretty sure it was one of the very best feelings in the world.

I guess close calls like these are just part of the package in this kind of lifestyle. It doesn't bother me - I find it more humbling than anything. I'm willing to accept that next time, sadly, the outcome might not be as good. It's difficult, but for me it provides a sobering reminder of how unpredictable this life really is - and like my little chick, how innocent we can be to that fact, even in the thick of things.

Nights like these

I'm convinced that spring nights on this homestead just couldn't be any better. At least, I wouldn't want to spend them any other way.

As I listen to the crickets chirping and watch the bats start appearing in the skies for the night, I walk through the grass towards the barn in an old pair of flip-flops. The grass is dense and soft - an old pasture variety - with crowds of tiny blue and yellow flowers scattered in spots. I guess they are weeds, but they're so beautiful that I don't mind them at all. A few stray purple violets and white strawberry blossoms are peeking out here and there. Along the fencelines and driveway, tall feathery grasses are growing, and the whole place looks ancient and wild, and beautifully lived-in. (I've never really been a fan of a perfectly-manicured yard.)

As I approach the chickens' coop I can see the light inside streaming out into the yard, with sixteen chicken silhouettes in view. I'll stop and sit down inside the coop for a bit, watching the birds. Most days, they are already resting on their perches, but some days, there is an honest-to-goodness chicken party going on. I don't know what gets them so wired some nights, but I arrive at the coop to find a riot of scratching, pecking, flapping and chirping. All they're missing is the boom box, and it's a pretty funny sight. Sometimes, a hen or two decides to visit me and settle down on my shoulders - I'm not sure what to make of this yet, but as long as they don't think I'm a good place to do their business, I don't really mind.

After the chickens are put to bed, I stroll back across the lawn towards the dogs. Most nights, I get distracted on the way, and end up touring the yard before I make it back to the house and kennel. I observe the new growth in the gardens, the changes in the trees, any critters hanging out in the pond, and finally make it back around to the driveway. Willow and Bandit are practically exploding with full-body tail wags, joyful howls and yips, knowing their dinner is on their way. They sit politely at their door, and I go in with their food in hand. While they eat, I gather up armfuls of fresh straw and stuff it into their houses, then grab the hose to refill their water bucket for the night. After they're done eating, we all settle down on a bench in the kennel (and I really mean, all three of us are on the bench) and I bury my hands in their thick ruff of fur, pet them and tell them how much I love them. When they jump off the bench to wrestle and play, that's my cue to tell them goodnight.

When I finally make it back inside and fling off my flip-flops, I'm usually greeted by one of my housecats - and spend the rest of the night watching TV or on the computer with a warm, purring pile of fur and claws on my lap.

Evenings like these are my absolute favorite. Come summer, they'll be even nicer, since there's a fire pit with aged wood just waiting to be used in the backyard.