The Filly Janet, Moving On

Morning on the farm.

Miss Janet, our pinto filly, is ready to move on. She has a new home lined up and a new owner; we're just trying to coordinate her move. Right now the horse trailer is stuck in the mud at the base of the hill. Although I got the truck down there, too, the ground has been too soft to get the trailer hooked up and out of there. By this afternoon I ought to have both truck and trailer back uphill, parked on dry ground.

Then all we will need to do is coordinate the move with her new owner, Jerry, and get the filly loaded. That may be more easily said than done. She's never stepped foot into a trailer. Sure, I've been leaving flakes of hay and nibbles of grain inside it from time to time, but she'd never so hungry that she'll climb right in. No, she just settles for what she can reach.

I will miss her. Since she's been the only equine on the place for months now, she has become quite attached to us. She calls greetings when we step onto the porch or pull into the drive. She trots up to the fence for attention or treats. And now that the cold weather is here, she's a joy to watch as she bucks and races around the hillside.

But, we don't have the time or talent for her at this point. Thirty years ago I would have trained her without a qualm, but now I have greater respect for the potential risks involved and no desire to injure those older bones. Plus, I'm too big for her young frame. True, some train and ride two year old horses, but their bones are still growing. Now that Janet's going on four, she's ready for some smaller human, who is gentle and quick on their feet, who can train her and ride with her into a lifetime of adventures.

We will miss you, Janet, but it is time for you to move on.

Chicken Soup Weather

Raw apple cider vinegar for the chickens' water.

With the chill of late fall upon us, I'm itching to pull out the crock pot and have warm stock ready at any time of day. Heeding the advice of the Bragg family, I added some of their raw apple cider vinegar (ACV) to the water of those few chickens we keep in the kennel. According to the Braggs, some ACV in the water for five days before slaughter will made a tough, older free-range bird into one for which diners will ask for repeat helpings. I was willing to give this remedy to tough poultry a try.

With a few tablespoons of ACV added to the birds' fresh water each day, we figured that they would be table ready within a week, but then did not get around to slaughtering a hen for nearly two weeks. When the time came to sample the meat, I was pleasantly surprised at the moist and tender nature of it. Of course, we usually slaughter roosters, who are said to be tougher, so it may not be a fair comparison. But, this hen produced some tasty meat for chicken salad.

Chicken Salad

chopped chicken

chopped celery

chopped grapes

onion, chopped fine

plain yogurt

tumeric

fresh ground pepper

Paulina is Growing

Miss Paulina with a crunchy leaf.

 Miss Paulina alpaca is growing to be a sweet girl. Now a month old, she comes up to sniff at me or be briefly petted before moving on to more serious business--generally nursing because if I am sitting still in their stall, I must have delivered fresh grain for her dam, who will then be occupied enough to allow a long suckle without complaint. Van is a good mother, always taking better care of her cria that herself, but Paulina is old enough now that she will not always stand still lengthy bouts of nursing.

This year's chick, now an adolescent.

Much older than Paulina is this year's surviving chick, who appears to be a pullet--or young hen. Yay! After the year of a multitude of surviving roosters, any young hen is to be celebrated. And since this year's crop of chicks mostly were hatched out in the barn shortly after the cats had been retrained to report there for meals, well, let's just say none of those chicks grew much.

They're never too young to learn the rules.

Indeed, when some of Kimberly hen's first-hatched brood piled out of their nest last June to explore the great world around them, I did my best to instill a sense of responsibility among some of them (see photo) as I rounded the hatchlings up. I daresay, though, I do a better job with young humans.

Paulina is ever alert to the wonders of her world.

Anyway, as we celebrate our pullet and Miss Paulina, a week of hard-freezes has given all of our herd animals fuller, fluffier coats. The alpacas and goats are enjoying the crunchy taste of autumn leaves as much as the Great Pyrenees dogs are enjoying the earthy scent as similar piles of leaves crunch beneath their bodies when they lie to sleep, watch or simply to roll in the leaves.

Fall is such a beautiful season!

Welcome Paulina Alpaca!

P&CW's Paulina

This afternoon our veteran female alpaca, Van, brought a new cria into the world. Little Paulina is a bright-eyed gentle gal, who is curious, friendly, and eager to learn her new surroundings. Since the alpaca herd has been "working" the front acres this summer, keeping the green growth mowed, Van was none-too-happy to be hauled up to a smaller enclosure attached to the barn a few nights ago; however, the weather had turned stormy and her body indicated that she was due to give birth on schedule, so we moved her to a spot of greater safety. At the time I put our littlest goat kid, Lorraine, in with her for a companion, but Paulina is the gal Van would rather spend her time with, so little Lorraine got returned to her herd today.

Crias are so much softer and meeker than kids. As a rule, alpacas are gentler than goats--except when they kick in self-defense. A strong kick from an angry alpaca beats being run down by a goat any day.

After suffering through her initial physical exam, and passing, little Paulina happily soaked up the mid-afternoon sun beside her dam and looked wide-eyed at her strange, new world. We left fresh water and feed for Van then did the new momma's bidding and left the pair alone.

Sweet Potato Harvest

Sweet potatoes, newly unearthed.

This afternoon I dug up our sweet potato bed by hand. Since I was too lazy to go get my gloves, I did get a bit of dirt under my fingernails, but not nearly as much as I had expected. This is because over the course of the summer, what had been tough, clay-like soil really responded to the organic inputs (added compost), the occasional red worm tossed onto the bed, and the periodic drinks of raw milk rinsed from recently-emptied buckets. The soil is now soft and earthy, for the most part, very easy to disturb with fingertips.

This is our first year with any sort of sweet potato bed and I had no idea of what to expect. I did not spread the initial transplants over hills of dirt when I planted them; I will do that next year. The potatoes immediately beneath the green runners tended to jumble upon one another, even to grow around one another. Hilling new transplants should help alleviate that problem.

The crop, freshly rinsed. Mmm, tasty.

All told, our little bed, with its too-shallow soil (the raised bed sides are only 8" tall) produced a respectable 14.5 pound crop of sweet potatoes this year. The fruit flesh is much a brighter shade of orange than those of the potatoes we have been able to get at farmers' markets recently, attesting to their nutritive value, and the flavor is delightful.

Next year we'll put in a larger crop.

Growing Pumpkins

Pumpkin flirting with disaster.

This year we have pumpkins growing in various places, most prominently along the front driveway. We didn't plant the seeds directly, but last fall we did bring home some feed pumpkins for the livestock---more than they wanted to eat, so we have self-sown plants.

The vines along the driveway tend to reach toward the hot asphalt, thus jeopardizing their survival, so I've taken to noshing on any blossoms close to the edge whenever I travel past. The first pumpkin to develop actually selected a dicey location, right on the edge of the driveway, and so we have been watching it with trepidation for weeks now.

Pumpkin growing safely inside the fence.

It finally developed a full orange skin and I was beginning to wonder about harvesting it, but a UPS delivery today smashed it. Lucky livestock. This evening the chickens, goose, and goats are dining on fresh pumpkin flesh.

The more recently developed fruits have settled further back from the danger zone, and should be safe from vehicle traffic. What does one do with field pumpkins, anyway? I understand the flavor is not that of pie pumpkins, but what about pumpkin soup? Time, and a bit of research, will tell.

Blessed Rain

Early August, 2012. Rains have helped renew green forages.

When the severe drought in June brought an early fall, and many trees shed their leaf canopies entirely, I know we were not alone in praying for rain. Thankfully, while the Midwest continued to suffer, Middle Tennessee received rains throughout July. The expanse of dirt that filled our front acreage again became a pasture. Now, in early August, the rains are continuing to keep the grasses greened and growing.

Kids clearing brush behind the house.

A couple of days ago I moved the goat kids into a newly-overgrown area directly behind the house, not generally a pasture space--but since all of our lawnmowers have either four hooves or feet and beaks, it is trimmed by animals. The kids are doing a good job, now that they've gotten over being separated from their dams. I'm glad to have the weeds to feed them.

Our sweet potato patch.

The sweet potato plants are growing like gangbusters. They've taken over the little bed allotted to them, surmounted the chicken wire enclosure, and entered the surrounding field. I don't know if they're producing anything; the plants are so thick, it's hard to dig down there. I should probably add more bedding--hay or straw--for the roots to grow into, and will do this just as soon as a bale of straw wanders this way.

We are blessed with all the rain that has brought life back to the plants. This is a glorious place to live and a glorious time to be alive.

Kefir

Kefir smoothie.

We started making kefir several weeks ago after a friend provided the starter culture from her collection. Kefir is a fermented milk product with a sour flavor, somewhat akin to yogurt. Slightly bubbly and thinner than yogurt, kefir makes a refreshing drink. That said, I have yet to drink a glass of it plain. Certainly, I lick my fingers after wiping the lip of the jug from whence the liquid has been poured, and the tartness is pleasant--but not appealing enough (yet) to drink straight.

Indeed, I must confess that it took me some time after obtaining the starter culture to actually try making kefir. While I see that reluctance as silly in hindsight, at the time I was just nervous about trying something new to us.

Kefir grains remain in the strainer after the liquid passes through.

Kefir is quick and simple to make. In this weather a new batch is ready every day. One need only strain the kefir "grains" (which look more like mini cauliflower florets than any grain) from the current batch, then place the grains in a clean glass container and cover with fresh milk. Of course, we use our raw goat milk; although I understand that kefir can be made with coconut milk or even almond milk. In about 24 hours, the new batch becomes thick and gelatinous and is ready to be strained anew.

The strained kefir gets stored in the refrigerator when we have any left over after making the day's smoothies. Kefir is a delicious way to incorporate raw milk into the diet, with the added benefits of being a fermented food.

Drought Recovery, in Progress

Late June, 2012. Land is day; vegetation is gone.

By the end of June, 2012, the land around here was dry, dry, dry. Annual rainfall was down in excess of eleven inches. The water pressure on our well was insufficient to reach all necessary destinations. Many farmers were selling off their herds, while others of us were seriously contemplating extreme downsizing measures. Our alpacas' coats were packed with dust because we no longer had green pastures for them to roam. And we were feeding hay-- precious hay that was not to have been needed until autumn--with little prospect of second or third cuttings becoming available later in the season. We watched our neighbors cutting entire fields of cornstalks, trying to salvage what they could from plants that would not be producing ears. At one time, such circumstances would have filled me with anxiety, trepidation, and dread. These days I have a deep, abiding faith that allows me to accept what comes with trust in the future.

8 July 2012.  Wet promises.

When the calendar flipped into July, the rains came. Steamy-hot days were concluded with showy thunderstorms and the blessedly cool breezes they delivered. We opened windows wide to welcome the fresh air, and positioned buckets and barrels to catch the roof runoff.

The okra plants along the driveway that we had started from seed, and watered by hose just to keep alive, finally put out more than the two or four leaves they had been sporting. They have began to look like plants with a future, although not yet like productive bushes. The self-sown pumpkins down beyond the gate have stopped wilting dangerously. The blueberry bushes are even showing some sprigs of spring green, although it appears that we did lose one of the six bushes we put in this year.

14 July 2012. The land is greening again.

May these rains continue to fall. Although this area is not yet out of drought conditions, we have escaped the Severe Drought label we carried through June and have dodged the sword that has fallen across so much of the country's farmland. Praise the Lord!

One of our remaining two horses, the black-and-white Spotted Saddle Horse named Millie, is close to being sold. Soon she should be romping across 400 lush acres with 80 other horses. Miss Janet, the filly, will be next. That will leave more pasture for the rest.

Hopefully, the rains will continue apace, allowing the land and water-levels to recover fully. In the meantime, we continue to feed hay judiciously, and are rotating the goats and alpacas through the back acres and woods to graze on the green as it appears.

Sweet Potato Patch

Our little sweet potato patch.

We have yet to succeed at growing sweet potatoes, but are giving it a go again this season. We put in a small sweet potato patch in a raised bed beside the house using plant starts from Edwards Feeds, our favorite feed mill located in downtown Lebanon. Later we added a couple of cut ends from sweet potatoes that had sprouted in the kitchen.

This afternoon when I checked the bed, the butt-ends planted a week or so ago were doing well. That is a relief, especially as the weather has been very hot and very dry of late. Many plants indeed many whole crops, are struggling just to survive these days. Thriving seems out of the question.

Already our little patch is doing better this year than in any of our previous attempts. Let's hope the weather breaks soon so that plants can return to the business of growing,

Invasion of Thistles

Thistles laying claim to the land.

 When we moved here in 2008, the front acres rolled smoothly down from the house. Although the grasses were long when we arrived to stay, I can only remember one or two thistles blooming. However, I like the bees, butterflies, and finches that thistles attract and allowed a plant or two (maybe three) to go to seed some three years back. That was a big mistake.

By last year I had taken to uprooting thistles in self-defense, and then feeding them to the livestock. Surprisingly, the horses generally like them when cut to readily-chewable lengths, and even the goats will nosh upon them when proffered. In the pasture proper, the horses nibble many of the thistles to the ground, but choose to eat around plants that they will gladly tackle when I cut them into shorter lengths.



A bucket of thistles cut to create feed.

As busy as the overabundance of invading thistles may be, I can get lost in the pastures just watching (and sometimes photographing) the myriad of winged visitors supping on the flowers. Unfortunately, this year I find the spines to be challenging. They poke through leather gloves, sift their way down boot-tops, and ultimately find ways to burrow into my skin. That can be disappointing.

Next year I'll have to be more diligent in moving fences and rotating grazers through the thistle-infested patches. I know this because the number of plants gone to seed this year has surpassed prior years, and I would prefer to return to less-prickly pastures in the future.

Tiger swallowtail butterfly feeding on thistle flower.

When I was growing up in New England, my mother always let a few thistles flourish by our back porch. With some Scottish ancestors, our family revered the lavender-tufted flowerhead. What I find strange, though, is that the plants never became invasive there. I guess the close-cropped pastures here are more conducive to seeds sprouting than the thick lawn in my mother's yard. Here in Tennessee, thistles are a highly invasive species.

Mother never needed a goat to bail her out. I expect to need all of ours for some years to come.

Summer Coats for Shearing Day

Hamilton is ready to meet the shearer.

Our little herd of alpacas was visited by our shearer this morning. Before she arrived with her able assistant, the alpacas were gathered into a small pen close to the shearing site that was carpeted with plenty of fresh green fodder. Last year they had to wait until quite late in the season to be shorn, but once the temperatures became unseemly warm this past April I believe we've all been counting down the days to Gerdi's visit.

Van's coat rolls off smoothly as Gerdi works.

When our female alpaca, Van, came to the table, her full, soft fiber rolled off smoothly in a lush blanket.

Alpacas line up for an after-shearing scratch.

After the shearer left, the alpacas lined up to scratch their sides along the branches of a young cedar tree. Perhaps it was just my imagination, but it seemed to me that they were relieved to have been unburdened from their winter coats.

Visiting Barbara's Garden

Color surrounds this delightful house.

I do love visiting my not-too-distant neighbor and Wilson County Master Gardener friend, Barbara. Her multi-generational household is inspiring to visit, yes, but it's the peace and tranquility of her garden that speaks to my soul. The colors, textures, and vistas offer a sensual symphony that our farm--as enjoyable as I find it--is years from providing.



A view of Barbara's garden in early May, 2012.

True, she has many hands to help her out on her daughter's farm and the contributions of this multitude of participants yield breathtaking results. After she started lining garden beds with rock--an abundant resource throughout Wilson County--her daughter, son, and grandchildren got involved. The results speak for themselves.

Barbara's produce tastes as sweet as it looks. Yum!

On this day I was once again a recipient of Barbara's unending generosity and went home with such a bagfull of organically-raised lettuce that we'll surely be feasting for days. Thanks, friend!

Greedy Goat or Glutton?

Marcie goat with her head caught in the hollow stump.

This morning I am extremely thankful for having such wonderful neighbors. Yesterday afternoon when I approached the home pasture fence, most of the goat herd poured down the hill to greet me; however, even after I had rustled the feed cans, Miss Marcie did not appear.

She's not one to hop fences or wriggle through tight gates (unless she feels the effort will be worth her trouble, in which case she can squeeze through just about any size opening). As such, it was odd that she did not appear at the sound of potential feed.

Looking uphill, I saw that she was busily feasting upon the Virginia Creeper topping one of two tall rotted-out stumps in that pasture. After hopping the fence myself, I went to investigate. She was quite engrossed. As I got closer I realized that our prized dairy goat had gotten herself hung up in the tree stump, and was close to hanging herself!

She must have lost energy after getting her head wedged into a V through which she had obviously reached in search of tasty morsels. Indeed, I lost energy trying to push her close enough that she could un-catch herself. Then I tried yanking the rotted wood enough to make an opening through which she could extricate herself, but that did not work either.

Luckily, our good neighbor Tony was about, and he heard my yell for help and hurried right over. After momentarily studying the situation, Tony began tugging at the wood as I had. While he worked the stump, I worked the goat. Marcie was free! Even better, Tony had the foresight to do more than free the goat, he saw fit to topple half of the tree shell, removing the possibility of any future accidents.

The herd rushed uphill to taste the vines Tony had brought to ground, and I gave thanks for having such a wonderfully helpful and wise neighbor. I had not even considered trying to break apart the tree to prevent future calamities. Thank you, Tony!

As for Marcie, like most of our goats she is greedy; however, when her greed leads to death-defying stunts, I'm thinking that her level og greed qualifies as gluttony. I'm thankful that Marcie the glutton is alive and well to tell her story.

Self-Watering Planters

Basil transplants in pot retrofitted with self-watering conversion kit. The float appearing at the top of the water-fill tube indicates that the water reservoir is currently full.

On Tuesday I set out to make some self-watering planters. Having purchased some very handy retro-fit conversion kits from Gardener's Supply Company last month, I have been busily setting up planters to accommodate container crops this summer. Unfortunately, I measured wrong and wound up with several wonderful one-gallon retrofit kits that will not work for the some of the planters that I had slated for the task. As such, the time for making my own retrofits had arrived.

Retro-fit insert, ready to go.

The kits I purchased are specifically designed for round planters of a certain size. Placed in the right container, they work beautifully. 

Correctly fitted inserts, ready for potting soil and plants.

The over size round planters we have will require larger collars around the inset in order to fully contain soil above the reservoir. The square and rectangular planters will require suitably shaped inserts. The kits come with enclosed water reservoirs, a fine mesh screen bottom through which roots and moisture can interact, a fill tube--with cover, and a float that indicates when the water level has dropped. They are beautifully designed. 

Planter in progress with building materials.

Planter in progress, with wicks inserted. (Base will move deeper to contain more soil before planting.)

Our homemade attempts are less aesthetically pleasing. Using materials already on hand, they reflect my haphazard style of designing on the fly as opposed to careful measuring and fitting. On Tuesday I had time to design one (very rough) rectangular planter that held water nicely. Although I had thought to use the rectangular planters for quick-pick salad crops--spinach or lettuce--what I had handy were pole bean seeds, so they got planted.

Windowsill seed starters.

Each wick masterfully transfers moisture in these.

The models for the wick theory performed better than expected. As I did not want the planters to remain wet, but rather simply moist, I limited the wicks in the large planter to just three. After all, the single wicks in the windowsill bottle models have remained quite wet. Indeed, the bottle model will wick up water quickly even without potting soil in the top portion.

Planter, completed and planted, holds water well.

Once planted, the rectangular planter filled nicely. Although I had hoped that the wicks would be enough to moisten the entire bed, a day later I discovered that they are not suite to the task. Perhaps the tight fit of the windowsill models served to assist the wicking process. I will have to rework this theory, or break down and purchase some mesh-type plastic for the insert between the soil and the water.

Tomorrow is another day. We will be revisiting this challenge in the coming days and weeks, as time allows. Unfortunately, time is ever short. Although we can allow hours and half-days for working the soil between tending the animals, studies for school, work off the farm, cooking and leisure, we can no longer give whole days to any one project of challenge.

For now we are looking forward to Saturday, when Cynthia will be facilitating a Composting class at the Gardens of Babylon nursery at the Nashville Farmers Market. Please join us at 10:00 am if you are in the neighborhood.

Sparrows, not Bluebirds

Birdhouse with parent bird in attendance.

The baby birds in the bluebird nest box are sparrows. This was decided yesterday, when a sparrow was seen tending to the nest. Parent birds make themselves scarce once they detect humans about, so the photos were taken from the front porch.

Smaller bird atop fence.

Although I tried to capture the strange interaction I had been observing between the parent bird and the smaller bird on the fence, by the time I got close enough to snap a photo the birds detected my presence and separated. What I saw was the larger bird repeatedly alighting atop the smaller bird, and doing what? I could not say.

Parent bird, perched at a distance, with an eye toward the intruding human.

The interaction was not sexual, I am sure, because it was repeated several times as I approached (trying to remain undetected, and failing miserably). It was almost as if the larger bird was encouraging the smaller bird to move, but when I got close, the smaller bird flew off with ease--so I discarded the notion of flying lessons.

A peek inside reveals little, although I do like the Guinea feather toward the back.

Later I approached the nest box and peeked inside. Rather, I allowed the camera lens to peek inside. Although the parent bird had earlier perched at the entrance, I detected no inhabitants. Perhaps the interaction had been that of a parent coach to a fledgling. The last time I had the leisure to sit still and watch flight lessons, I lived in a Northeastern city; at that time I saw fledglings watched by adult birds, but I do not recall such direct contact.

Anyone with greater insight is invited to share some thoughts. I would appreciate the feedback. Thank you!

Broody Hens & First Hatched Chick

A broody hen sitting in a shipping crate with Pretty Boy the old rooster by her side.

With the overabundance of roosters we have running around this farm, many of our hens appear to be oversexed. By that I mean they sport naked "saddles" on their backs from the frequent mountings by multiple males. Although the Dominicker hens are nearly fully feathered, I've noticed their rooster has stopped being vigilant about being their sole mate; the New Jersey x Rhode Island cross roosters are in on the act these days. Only the flock that revolves around the barn--with its young rooster--appears immune from the flurry of overzealous breeding.

A broody hen inside a dog crate in the yard.

As such, I imagine that the hens who have gone broody, mostly the old Jersey Black hens, find their stint atop the nest affords them a time for healing a bit, too. Not that most appear to be regaining any feathers in the worn-away patches, but the hen who has ensconced herself in the dog crate out front--she is showing some new feathering on her back. I would like to see such progress on the hens who have settled on clutches in the various shipping box planters still available to them.

Kimberly hen with her first chick of the year.

When I stepped into the end stall of the barn this afternoon, I heard Kimberly hen--the Buff Orpington--cooing in the corner feed tub she's taken over in the middle stall. Pursuing the sound, I found her fluffed wide to hide new young from my prying eyes. A "cheep, cheep" emitting from beneath her feathers confirmed my suspicions, so I hung around a bit and soon was able to glimpse our first chick of the season.

LaLa Goose sits atop her secluded nest.

With all the broody hens about, I periodically check each of the four nests I have discovered, we are hoping for a bumper crop of chicks this season. LaLa Goose is also hoping for her eggs to hatch; however, there will be no goslings in her future as this is her second spring without a gander by her side. She has done a nice job of feathering her nest over behind the riding lawnmower. Although I gathered the better part of a dozen goose eggs before she began sitting on her nest, I have chosen to respect her maternal instincts--even though those goose eggs make marvelous meals for the dogs.

Bluebirds?

A bluebird house sits beside our driveway.

A bluebird house sits atop a pole alongside our driveway, just across from the front stairs, just where it was when we moved into this house. Last year I watched wasps colonize the house. Prior to that, some rodent--presumably a squirrel--chewed around the entrance without managing to enlarge the hole enough to enter. We have never witnessed bluebirds set up house in the box until this year.

Hungry baby birds awaiting the return of parents with food.

As I was trimming branches overhanging the driveway today, I noticed the bluebird house. Normally quiet, today the raucous sounds of hungry baby birds wreathed the box with sound. Curious, I stepped closer and was rewarded with the sight of two gaping beaks awaiting their next feeding. Although no parent bird returned when I was nearby, the baby birds sound mighty healthy and I suspect the parents are quite good about keeping them fed.

I love the simple joys of spring.

Cruciferous Bouquet

Bouquet of cabbage bearing evidence that it's ready to eat.

This morning I harvested a number of the cabbage plants that came here from Edwards Feeds at the end of last season. I had stopped to buy feed on the morning they were disposing of all the unsold cool-season plants, and with visions of homemade sauerkraut driving my plant selection, came home with not only feed but also a large selection of mostly cabbage plants.

Through the winter months we harvested leaves here and there. Greens mostly, although from time to time we would bring in piles of cabbage leaves. Having fresh-picked greens available throughout the cold season was delightful, and I never could bring myself to thin out the overcrowded plants through the months when growth was slow enough that the crowding was of little import. Now though, the plants are developing quickly and if we are to have any full heads of cabbage later, this is the time to thin out the too-crowded plants.

Evidence of plant predators: caterpillar poop.

Around the edges of the bed, holey leaves attest to the fresh flavor of the plants and to the presence of a few cabbage worms or similar caterpillars. At the base of a very few leaves, piles of caterpillar poop present further evidence that some resident insects have been enjoying the plants.

The early part of this afternoon will be spent chopping up that lovely, cruciferous bouquet, pounding the cabbage in a mixture of our own raw-milk whey, caraway seeds and sea salt, and storing the lot into canning jars. The wait will be worth it, for this will produce our first batch of sauerkraut using home-grown cabbage.

Gotta run now. Cabbage waiting...