Summer Wanes

Sunset from our front porch.

We have had a busy summer, filled with extra-hot days and visitors from out of town. We have enjoyed having distant friends come for a taste of Middle Tennessee. The porch swing and rockers have been well-utilized as we've sat to visit and catch up. A dry spell has challenged our container gardens, so we have had ample reason to visit the farmers markets in Nashville and downtown Lebanon.

Dairy does recline in an dry kiddie pool.

With the two bucklings gone, we're back in milk, which makes me extremely happy. Nothing tastes better on a hot evening than freshly-churned goat milk ice cream, and nothing can beat the taste-sensations of fresh goat milk ricotta. Ms. Leslie Lupine goat is learning to stand like a lady at milking time and every day with her milk is a treat. Her udder is more fully developed than it was at her first freshening, and I'm appreciating how udders and teats differ from doe to doe and even from side to side on a single doe. Our primary milkers are Leslie (pictured) and Marcie, neither of which is a "show goat" (with well-matched udders), and each of which have markedly different mammary structures from side to side.

Hank and Stew show off their meaty physiques.

We retained the buckling Stew and renamed him Studebaker--something I may have mentioned earlier--because he's become a meaty model of his sire and is built like a truck. We are proud of his development and while we still compete with him for his auntie Marcie's milk, we see him as a poster buckling for the old ad campaign: "Milk, it does a body good." He will make a fine little herd sire alongside Hank.

With all the hot weather and the absence of recent rains, area trees are already beginning to drop their leaves, giving the landscape a foretaste of fall. The few cool days have been most welcome; everyone here perks up when the mercury drops.

The Bucklings Move On

Stroganoff, big enough to move away from the farm.

The thermometer on my car's dashboard has reported triple-digit temperatures frequently of late. Oddly, weekends have been cooler but excessive humidity necessarily shortens outdoor work stints. Last weekend when had a new helper scheduled to come work I was dismayed to step out into air so close it challenged breathing. The humidity level was at 88%! Thank goodness that the day's rains arrived with Josh, bringing welcome respite from the cloying heat. Sure we were drenched in no time, but the cool rain was a treat after so many days of sweat-soaked clothing accompanying all outdoor chores.

When Josh and I headed up toward the barn to find bucklings Stroganoff and Chilipepper, we found that the goats had found entertainment with their shelter. Rather than resting before fan-cooled stalls with the alpacas, our capricious caprines had busted into the storage area and taken to climbing box-mountains and causing box-slides. Although Leslie Lupine's twin bucklings weigh only around 40 pounds apiece, their cavorting contributed considerably to the damage, and so I was glad to be packing them off to another farm.

Chili, the older twin, has a bit more meat on his frame.

Even with meaty Midnight Hank as their sire, neither twin fared as well as Pamela Chrysanthemum's darling Stew--who bulked up so quickly we decided to keep him as breeding stock and changed his name to Studebaker. He's as solid as a truck and just as steady. For some reason the does favored him and allowed him to nurse indiscriminately while the twins had to battle for decent meals.

Now that they were ready to move on, I drove them down the street to another farm where they were stalled indoors--warm and dry--and surrounded by a fine herd of does much taller than either of the kids. True, they had been advertised as cabrito (or young goat, somewhat akin to veal), but when I last saw them they certainly appeared to be pets-in-the-making.

Studebaker, our young truck atop cloven hooves. Some buck!

Now that the bucklings are off of their dam, Leslie has become just another dairy doe. She's gentle and sweet, and stands fairly well for milking now--especially when she's offered mini-massages for her back and a pan of grain before her muzzle. It has been two days and she's no longer searching for her boys at every turn; she transitioned smoothly into her new role.

Two goats down. Now, if we can just sell two of the horses our pasture should stretch far enough for all of our animals without much supplementation.

The Second Cutting

With but one pass finished, the grasses still stand waiting to be cut.

For some reason I find the processing of haying to be extremely soothing to watch--probably because I am not the one doing the work. When the farmer across the way heads into his hayfield to cut, I am drawn to the porch from where I can measure his progress as the day wears on.

Cutting done, these grasses will dry under the August sun.

With each successive pass, the once-tall grasses fall gracefully into place on the ground, forming a quilted pattern of new-mown hay. As the yet-to-be-cut patch diminishes, my forays onto the porch for a peek become more frequent, for it's not the finished job that thrills me so--although baled hay in the field is quite attractive. No, it's the progression of the job that draws me to watch and enjoy.

Perhaps it's the predictability of the work. Perhaps it's the steadily progressing change in the landscape. Whatever the cause, I find haying time to be extremely soothing to observe.