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Hi Everyone,
As the week began, everyone in Florida was anxiously awaiting to see what Hurricane Dorian was going to do. The first prediction was that he would come right up the middle of Florida wreaking havoc all the way. We were not looking forward to moving over a hundred chickens and 50 turkeys to more secure dwellings. Papa told everyone that we were lining the barn wall with Velcro and we would stick the sheep to it. We were grateful that the storm turned, but saddened that the stall that saved Florida from a nightmare turned the lives of those who lived in the Bahamas into a forty-eight hour nightmare which ended in total chaos. Life as they knew it is gone forever. Florida was spared the damage, but as Hurricane Dorian traveled up the coast line he caused lots of flooding and power outages all the way up the coast of America and into Canada. While my heart goes out to those whose lives have been affected by the hurricane, I am thankful that life here on the farm has continued on.
Last Monday the sky was slightly cloudy, the temperatures were in the eighties and the breeze was just perfect. We spent our day weeding in the garden. Mom worked at pulling nut grass out of the newly planted onion bed, Steve worked at digging out bigger sections of weeds, and I broadforked in the garden tunnel. The compost chickens have been living in the tunnel for the past month. When they first entered their “vacation” home, the whole place was covered over in luscious green weeds. Now it is mostly dirt, with a few patches of weeds here and there. To help them dig up more weeds—and find more bugs, I began to broadfork the whole area (14ft x 50ft). I did manage to do about two-thirds of it myself, and then Steve came over from pulling weeds on the ground and came and took over the broadfork—maybe he thought I was having too much fun, or maybe he thought I was getting tired (and I was). The best part about broadforking with the chickens was that they would follow me around and immediately start scratching in the area that I had just forked up—they were looking for bugs. After a while I looked at the dirt sections that I had fluffed up and found them nicely smoothed out. The broadfork was making clumped soil, and the chickens were going behind leveling it all out.
Monday and Tuesday were great planting days for starting the fall garden. This year we are taking a new approach to gardening. We are trying out the “market garden” method of long thirty inch wide beds were you plant transplants into the beds in perfectly marked rows. Thirty inch beds are easier to work with—especially if you want to step over them. Transplants allow you to have the perfect spacing right from the beginning, and give you an advantage against the weeds that love to take over your young sprouts. We have never started our seeds in trays before—and have a lot to learn. While Mom and Steve worked on making two new planting gridders, I planted about 400 seeds into seed trays. I planted collards, kale, broccoli, bok choy, onions, three types of cabbage, Swiss chard and six types of lettuce. Then I watered them real good and placed them on feed sacks under the table and sink in the milk house. I heard that they needed sunlight and a room temperature of about 75 degrees, and the milk house was the only place to achieve both of those. By Friday morning some of the seeds had begun to sprout—but to my dismay they looked like 2 to 3 inch long thin noodles with two little green leaves on top. When you plant seeds straight into the ground they sprout leaves—not spindly stems stretching their necks out for the sunlight. Saturday morning Mom did some research and found out that they need real sunlight or a grow light (not window light)—so I placed the trays outside on the concrete and watered them again. By that night they were sun baked, thirsty, and ready for some shade and cooler temps. I put them back inside the milk house—and became quite discouraged. Living in north Florida, I am not sure how to do this, for all the people I know doing it are up north. Late that night I was asking God for some wisdom on what to do, and He reminded me of a farmer about thirty minutes south of us that gardens for a living—and he uses a lot of transplants. We have known him for many years, so I am hoping to be able to glean some Florida garden wisdom from him. Otherwise, it is back to planting the seeds directly in the garden, being diligent to weed, and being faithful to thin the plants so that they have plenty of room to grow strong and healthy.
It was 5:20 Wednesday morning and I drug myself out of bed to go to the bathroom. I still had forty minutes left to sleep—but a full bladder isn’t going to let you sleep very well. I cherish my sleep greatly, and will not get up even one minute before the alarm goes off—because that is one minute more to rest before the day begins. While I was in the bathroom though, I heard some noises. I went to the window in my guest room and listened, and I heard it again. I then headed for the back door, I opened it slowly and quietly, and I heard the noise very clearly. I quickly headed back down the hallway to my parents room where I announced—Coyotes are in the back field! It would have been no big deal except for the fact that they had killed two sheep two weeks ago in the back field, and the sheep were now in the garden that bordered the back field. It is very hard to tell from a coyote howl just where it is—or how many there are. Their howl can travel quite far, and one can sound like a pack. Anyway, we grabbed our flashlights and headed outside—so much for those extra forty minutes of sleep! Papa quietly walked out to the garden, but Mom and I jumped in the Gravely and headed out pretty quickly. We never did see or hear the coyote—but Mom and I did manage to scare the sheep half to death and as we came up upon the Poultry barn the sheep came barreling out of the orchard right through the hotwire fence breaking the posts and stringing hotwire everywhere. As Papa walked up he calmly said, “You know what spooked them don’t you?” Yep!—we did. Let’s just say that the poor sheep’s nerves were frazzled after listening to the coyotes howl—mine would be if I was sitting out there in the field listening to them howl knowing that I could be their breakfast. Hey, my heart stops when I am lying safely in bed in the middle of the night and I hear the coyotes begin their howls. I do not think that I ever want to face a wolf—for at least coyotes are afraid of man. The next thirty minutes was spent fixing the hot wire fence in order to keep the cows out of the garden. I got back to my bedroom at 5:59, but I knew that it was useless to try to salvage the last minute of sleep for the day.
Wednesday and Thursday were some of the strangest days since Hurricane Dorian was breathing down the neck of the Jacksonville beaches causing us to delay our Jacksonville delivery until Thursday. The Cranes still came over. They helped Steve do his morning chores, and then they moved some chicks out to pasture (thankfully the storm was missing us and we figured that they would be safe) and since there were no ice chests to pack we got to play in the garden. Timothy is the gardener in his family, and he was anxious to try out the new broadfork. Wednesday afternoon Mom and I worked some more in the dining room changing the décor from summer to fall. It has turned out very lovely—but sad to say, pictures just do not do it justice. I do not know how home decorating magazine take all those really nice table setting pictures—mine never seem to catch the true beauty. Thursday afternoon after Papa left for Jacksonville Mom and I worked on paperwork and we gave the dining room a deep fall cleaning. That night I did the evening chores by myself—while Mom mopped the floors. I do not get down to the chickens that Sheba guards very often, so it was a delight to get to “visit” with her. She has grown into a very beautiful, sweet, and gentle dog. Sheba met me at the gate, and then sat at my feet forever soaking up all the attention that I could give her, and when I was done, she followed me to the Gravely and climbed halfway into my lap for more attention. I then headed to the chicken house, with her running beside me all the way. The chestnuts are starting to fall, so I stopped and picked a few and sat there cutting them open. As I peeled them, little flakes would land on the floor, and the chickens would hop in and peck them up. Once I got the nut completely peeled, I shared half with Sheba who was practically drooling in my lap. Once I finished one house—where I collected 75 eggs, I headed over to the other house—where I collected 78 eggs. Then it was time to feed the dogs. Papa says that Jill is in retirement. A few weeks ago she moved herself in with Sheba, and has slept her days away in Sheba’s dog house—letting Sheba do all the guarding. Jill is now about nine years old, and I guess she is feeling her age. It does make feeding the dogs a little scary to me—for jealousy can be a problem if you give attention to one and not the other. The new puppy Yasha is growing nicely, and before long we shall be putting her out to field so that Sheba can train her to be a good guard dog. In the meantime, I am enjoying my evening walks with Yasha as I take her out of her kennel and let her run around the yard free, and practice walking her on a leash. Our routine is to get her a pint of milk from the milk house, and then we go over to the bottle calf and let them smell noses. Next we head over to the turkey house where we gather up their trays that we feed them hard boiled eggs and kefir in every morning. Yasha helps me clean them up, and then I give the turkeys some fresh water. When the sheep were in the yard, we would go and check on them to. One day I let go of Yasha’s leash so that if she got to close to the hotwire, I wouldn’t get shocked with her—and shocked she got, and she took off running. From then on she had a good respect for the hotwire. When we would go and check on the sheep, she would keep a healthy distance away from the wire. Fast learner! Once we have checked on all the animals in the yard, then we head back to her kennel and I feed her dinner. Like Sheba, Yasha has a very sweet and gentle personality. I just wish that I knew how to train her to stop about a foot away from me when I call her, for when she comes, it is full speed ahead eager to reach me. She then skids to a stop sitting on my feet, or by my side. If I am squatting down—let’s just says she flattens me.
While last week really was a slow paced week, I think that this one will make up for it. Tune in next week to hear all about it, and until then—enjoy these last days of summer.
Serving you with Gladness,
Tiare