Drought, floods, blood, beer, wwoofers, and puppy dogs. The signs of the apocalypse.
This was our first summer on the farm. We planted trees and grew a garden. We fixed fences. We repaired leaks. We got chickens. Time passed, but it didn't rain at all.
We fixed up our sleepout with new insulation, wiring, plumbing, siding, and roof. We even added a wraparound deck. Gail's family came to visit for Christmas, and they dubbed the sleepout "the Cottage by the Cows."
We slaughtered turkeys. Blood everywhere. The horror.... the horror.....
I brewed more beer. Summer is a good time to brew, because it's warm enough for the yeasts. Planning ahead, I thought that 120 liters of beer would be enough for the whole year. There is a quote from a wine-making book we find quite appropriate: "It is very little more trouble to make five gallons than to make one (and it lasts nearly twice as long!)"
At the beginning of April, I gave a presentation at a science conference. I presented a small "dosimeter" which measures UV radiation and records a person's exposure. It was quite well received, considering I had just finished it the night before, and wasn't 100% sure it would work when I got up on the podium. On the way home after the conference, I struck up a conversation with a man in Dunedin, and happened to mention the presentation. He interrupted me, exploding with enthusiasm, "You're that guy! The one who makes the thing that measures your UV exposure! We just heard about it on National Radio! Oh boy, wait until I tell my wife that I met you!" Apparently, this little device struck a nerve with a few people.
Meanwhile, back on the farm, the summer came and went, and there was no rain at all. Crops failed. Lots of our trees died. This was very unusual for our area, and it affected everyone. Many local farmers sold off their cattle, because there wasn't enough grass. We were lucky to have a gully that stayed moist and green.
In the previous twelve months, we had gotten less than ten inches of rain. Then, in the middle of May, the skies opened up. In five days, we got fourteen inches! Roads closed because of flooding, and soon the bypass roads were closed as well. Our little gully turned into a raging river, complete with whitewater rapids and a five-foot waterfall. In one area, the runoff from our neighbor's cabbage farm burst through the fence, sending a cascade of broccoli across our property. We have since named that paddock, "Broccoli Falls."
Cleaning up took a while, but we've had help. We signed up for a program called "WWOOF", which stands for Willing Workers On Organic Farms. We host volunteers, usually young travelers, who stay with us for a week or two. They help out with the farm work, and in exchange, we give them room and board. It's a good situation for everyone, and we have had some great experiences.
Kayla and Tim got engaged! They are planning to get married on the beach next February. Gail and I could not be any happier for them. Tim is a fine choice, and they are so very happy together.
Yesterday was Levi's 19th half-birthday. (That's 9 1/2, if you can't figure out improper fractions.) We went for a drive, but didn't tell Levi that it was part of our evil plan to buy him a dog. We pulled into a farm driveway near Elephant Rocks, and parked next to a pen full of squirmy little puppies. It took Levi a few minutes to figure out what was happening, but then the light bulb over his head went on. He picked a beautiful little Huntaway, and now he can't wait to pick her up on Saturday. He spent all day today reading books about dog-training.
Gail and I recently enjoyed our tenth wedding anniversary with a 5-star lunch, followed by a movie, a B&B, and a trip to the hospital. (I'm okay; I just hit myself on the head with a car.)
Such is the stuff that memories are made of....
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Friday, February 12, 2010
Bringing in the hay, new schools, and baby turkeys
Some of the guys who work on the farm next door dropped by yesterday to mow our grass and bale it up for winter feed. We've been stressing about this, so it was good to get it done.
You would think that grass is pretty simple stuff, right? The rain comes, the grass grows, the cows and horses eat it, and that's all.
Wrong. The rain came, the grass grew, and while the animals were eating part of it, the rest of it got rank and nasty. Then the rain stopped, and the grass went into distress, went to seed,
and became bitter. Pretty soon, we had 20 acres of rank and bitter seed stalks, which aren't good for anything at all. Nothing will eat it, and the plant won't rejuvenate while the seed head is still attached.
Grass management is tricky. People around here think it's easy, because they've been doing it their whole lives. I like to think that I provide some amusement for them: There he is, Mister Big-Shot Engineer from America, thinks he knows everything, yet he is completely clueless about how to manage grass. Bah.
Anyway, it's good to have local help, and people are always good-natured about providing it, as long as I make it clear that I am anxious to learn. By nature, people are happy to share the things they are good at.
Levi loves his new school. Weston School's philosophy is that learning should be self-motivated and largely independent. This works well, especially for kids at the extremes of the spectrum. Levi's teacher is from Dallas, but she had the accent smashed out of her when she went to college in Northampton. Those Massachusetts people don't take any Texas guff. Even in New Zealand.
Levi says, "My school is full of bullies. Well, the school is not exactly full of them, but there could be a whole room full of them. But when I say room, I mean there are some rooms that only have five people in them. Yes, but it's good. The bullies aren't like the ones on the Simpsons, though. They're just annoying. They come in packs. They ignore you."
Those are some sophisticated bullying tactics. We're still trying to sort this out.
Just this minute, Levi burst in to announce that Matilda the Turkey has had another clutch of baby chicks! There were eleven eggs. We went out and counted four that have hatched so far, but there will probably be more as the day progresses. (Levi now tells us that there are six!)
Matilda is amazing. She chooses a place that is sheltered and secretive for her nest. She lays one egg per day until her nest is full. The eggs are alive during this time, but not developing. Once she feels she has enough, she says goodbye to her family, and starts incubating. She sits on them for four weeks, only occasionally getting off for food and water. That's devotion!
If you look at the picture long enough, you might be able to hear her sing to the babies.
You would think that grass is pretty simple stuff, right? The rain comes, the grass grows, the cows and horses eat it, and that's all.
Wrong. The rain came, the grass grew, and while the animals were eating part of it, the rest of it got rank and nasty. Then the rain stopped, and the grass went into distress, went to seed,
and became bitter. Pretty soon, we had 20 acres of rank and bitter seed stalks, which aren't good for anything at all. Nothing will eat it, and the plant won't rejuvenate while the seed head is still attached.Grass management is tricky. People around here think it's easy, because they've been doing it their whole lives. I like to think that I provide some amusement for them: There he is, Mister Big-Shot Engineer from America, thinks he knows everything, yet he is completely clueless about how to manage grass. Bah.
Anyway, it's good to have local help, and people are always good-natured about providing it, as long as I make it clear that I am anxious to learn. By nature, people are happy to share the things they are good at.
Levi loves his new school. Weston School's philosophy is that learning should be self-motivated and largely independent. This works well, especially for kids at the extremes of the spectrum. Levi's teacher is from Dallas, but she had the accent smashed out of her when she went to college in Northampton. Those Massachusetts people don't take any Texas guff. Even in New Zealand.
Levi says, "My school is full of bullies. Well, the school is not exactly full of them, but there could be a whole room full of them. But when I say room, I mean there are some rooms that only have five people in them. Yes, but it's good. The bullies aren't like the ones on the Simpsons, though. They're just annoying. They come in packs. They ignore you."
Those are some sophisticated bullying tactics. We're still trying to sort this out.
Just this minute, Levi burst in to announce that Matilda the Turkey has had another clutch of baby chicks! There were eleven eggs. We went out and counted four that have hatched so far, but there will probably be more as the day progresses. (Levi now tells us that there are six!)
Matilda is amazing. She chooses a place that is sheltered and secretive for her nest. She lays one egg per day until her nest is full. The eggs are alive during this time, but not developing. Once she feels she has enough, she says goodbye to her family, and starts incubating. She sits on them for four weeks, only occasionally getting off for food and water. That's devotion!
If you look at the picture long enough, you might be able to hear her sing to the babies.
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