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!

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.

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.

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.

Boot Season

Warm days and abundant rain encourage snakes to appear.

This morning I was reminded quite suddenly that the time for wearing Crocs--those rubber clogs that slip on and off so easily--around the farm has come to an end. Biscuit and I were wandering in the lengthening grasses up near the kennel when a spring snake slithered out and away. He did not rush, but he had obviously been disturbed by our mucking about.

Now the snake we saw this morning (pictured) appears to be of the harmless garden variety, this area is known for copperheads and rattlers. As such, I will try to remember to venture out only after donning socks and boots--if not step-in muck boots, then at least ankle-high tie-on shoes.

Springtime

This is just a part of the springtime carpet decorating our farm.

The wildflowers of springtime have begun to carpet the landscape. As the trees explode into leaf and the earth renews her green mantle, I enjoy poking around the farm and countryside because every day looks different and beautiful. If I had time, I imagine I would be out photographing often, but usually I drive by a dozen scenes on my way from here to there and think What a nice picture that would make, without stopping.

The trees, buds, and flowers unfolding present a magical treat. Another joy is the number of young appearing: kids, calves, foals, and fawns abound. Watching the endless cycle of life play out through the changing seasons delights me to no end. I do love life here in Middle Tennessee.

Spring Weather

Starlight's kids are eager to eat after a few hours apart from their dam.

With the warm weather we're currently enjoying, the forage has been shooting up quickly. This provides us with ample opportunity to let the does roam to forage during the day, and snag some milk for ourselves--after the runt little Emmilye has had her fill, before returning the dams to their by-now-hungry kids. At just a few days old, Starlight's kids have not yet begun slipping through the fence to be beside their dam; however, that should start any day now. Today I reached over the fence and carried each of the new kids to Starlight before getting the other dams--Pamela and Marcie--onto the milking stand.

We cannot claim to be "in milk" for the season yet, since we are still sharing so readily with the kids. But their days as sole recipients of the delicious milk are numbered. As soon as I am convinced that Emmilye can fend for herself, we will be able to enjoy milk regularly again in the house. Can't wait!

Life on the farm is a daily gift for which we are most thankful.

Chilly Temperatures

A misty winter morning as viewed from our farm.

February's wintery weather--mostly in the form of cold temperatures--is manageable, even preferable, for the thick-coated animals. The Great Pyrenees dogs and the alpacas stand or play in the brisk air, or stretch out on the cold ground, all of the discomfort of hot summers long forgotten.

Kids beneath heat lamp; hen brooding overhead.

On chilly days the kids often congregate in their stall, gathering beneath the heat lamps for warmth. The larger Nubian kids, Metro and Erin, romp outside periodically. They are hale and hearty, and growing nicely. Soon, Marcie's new kids will be joining them outdoors.

Emmilye is hesitant to romp outside in the cold.

Since our Nubian dam's littlest, Emmilye, is lame she is often left behind when her littermates romp off to play. Sometimes she appears lonely; however, usually she is settled alone, like a content cat in sunlight, just watching the world from her warm nest.

Marcie's kids: Isabell in front, Kimberly in back.

The twin doelings, now almost two days old, stay in where it's warm, but lie separately from the triplets. Each little goat family is insular at this point; although stabled together, the young kids congregate separately when bedding down.

On days like this I find excuses to spend even more time around the goats. The kids are so dear.

Warmer Weather

Percentage Nubian kids Emmilye and Erin, ready to play.

With the warmer weather today, I slipped the flannel coats off of the two doelings. All it took was to open the button at the neck, then to hold the sleeve while each kid walked out. There's little sense in keeping them bundled up when they could be acclimating to the weather.

Played out, the kids again recline beneath their warming lamp.

Even so, we've chosen to leave the heat lamp on around the clock. The kids venture out of its warmth to caper and play, but only briefly. Being a kid takes work, and their biggest job is sleep. Within a few minutes they tire and return to pile themselves into a companionable heap beneath the warm, red glow.

Our goose enjoying the impromptu puddles the weather provided.

Outside the clouds skid by overhead, loosing drenching rain upon the earth. Our goose, LaLa, enjoys the presence of the multitude of temporary ponds--all apparently provided for her bathing convenience.

Kid Clothing

Pamela inspects her kids.

The thermometer registered 25 degrees Fahrenheit when I headed out this morning. Although our new-mother goat Pamela had been keeping her kids beneath the heat lamp since birth, I still brought out a couple of quilted flannel shirt-sleeves in case the kids were shivering. (Yes, I know, she had three kids, but I had two sleeves ready from when the orphaned Savannah doelings had moved here; I would procure a third coat if necessary.)

The kids were clustered directly beneath the heat lamp, as I had hoped, yet the littlest kid--the one we named Emmilye--was shivering. I popped her into the shorter of the two shirt-sleeves, adjusted the width to accommodate the breadth of her little shoulders, cut vents to make flaps over her flanks and tail, and fastened the button at her throat to keep the tube in place. The stall smelled of diarrhea, a condition not all that uncommon in the first days but one that needs to be monitored and for which counter-measures may need to be taken. I gave each kid a squirt of  goat Nutri-drench, and gave Emmilye three.

Momma goat stands by her snoozing kids.

Next I herded Pamela, who had gone out to the pasture for a drink, back to the stall for her kids. She nosed suspiciously at the newly-clothed Emmilye, but accepted her readily. Still shivering, Emmilye made her way to a teat but grabbed for it ineffectively. After watching her unsuccessful attempts for a bit, I intervened and was rewarded by improved performance once the kid had gotten a fresh taste of milk.

Since I had another sleeve handy, I woke the other doeling, Erin, and dressed her. She is smaller than the buckling, but heartier than the littlest doeling. With a couple of snips at the fabric and a neat button at the kid's neck, I was able to present Pamela with two kids insulated against the cold. Erin nursed briefly, then returned to the kid-pile beneath the lamp. (Note: The lamp is turned off for photographic purposes only, to inhibit the red glare in pictures.)

A broody hen atop her clutch of eggs.

Before I left the stall, a hen came in to claim her spot on the nest she had made in the corner feed tub. At first she flapped her way up to a way-station and stood there to cackle until her rooster--just outside--returned the call. Then she flew onto the feed tub and settled down, right at home in her stall with a new family of goat companions beneath her roost.

Too Muddy for Safety

Saturday evening, one very muddy Stella favors a foreleg.

We have had rain several days over the last week, enough that the horse pasture is a sloppy mess. When there was a chill in the air over the weekend, our mares gallivanted up and down their hillside, kicking up mud and racing around. All was well until we noticed that Stella was down. She was stretched out full length in the mud and rain, in a posture more suited to sunbathing than the weather we were having.

When I went to investigate, she was calm but remained down. After I tied on a halter, she got right up--but one of her forelegs was canted out at an unusual angle and she would put no weight on that leg. Being Saturday night, we could not raise help through our regular veterinarian, so I consulted by phone with a friend and with two large animal veterinarians on call for other practices.

Although the conversation with the first veterinarian fed my darkest fears and led to me consulting with the disposal services she recommended, the second veterinarian took a more wait-and-see attitude. He suggested letting the mare wait for a couple of days and see how she fared.

Monday, Stella shares hay while receiving hydrotherapy to her shoulder.

After Stella had gotten up so quickly for me, I saw that she could not lie back down readily. When she finally tottered forward and fell to get back to the ground, I was very concerned; however, by Sunday morning she was up and moving about the pasture. Much reassured, assuming that she would not be moving about so readily if she had suffered a fracture, I treated her with a steady hosing with chilly well-water for 45-minute intervals twice on Sunday, and again on Monday.

Events conspired to keep me from contacting Doc Kinslow until Tuesday, by which time Stella had settled herself in a small area where she could nip at green shoots and push herself around on the hillside using the chicken coop for leverage. This was far from ideal. After Doc sent me home with a prescription for the pain and swelling, we agreed to give her a couple of more days and see how she fared.

Although she was getting around again, by Wednesday the leg was useless.

Unfortunately, she did not fare well. What had started out as a swollen shoulder graduated to an entirely swollen leg. And while she became more mobile again, she was not using the leg at all--it just hung uselessly and dragged. What we had hoped would turn out to be a pulled muscle was far more serious.

She was a valiant gal, but we knew she was too injured for what we could do for her, and we said our goodbyes this morning. After she was gone, the remaining two mares called out for her periodically throughout the rainy afternoon. They had seen their friend leave, and did not understand why she was not coming back. This was a very sad day here on the farm.

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.

Managing in the Heat

Our herd sire and dairy queen hide in the shade on a July morning.

Managing in the heat this month has been a challenge for everyone. During the heat of the day most of the animals disappear into the shade--under a building overhang, beneath a vehicle, in the cool of the woods--and only venture out late in the day.

Heat stress leaves Marcie, our dairy queen, panting heavily by mid-morning. Heat stress caused, I believe, one of our alpacas to miscarry. Although I did not find a fetus, she transitioned from clearly pregnant to clearly barren overnight. Heat stress even finds the hens panting when I encounter them about the yard.

The only creatures who appear immune to the heat are the guineas. We appear to be down to two now, but those two can be seen busily scooting about the property--crossing fields back and forth, and popping out and back over fences--with their heads down. They are always focused on their work which they take very seriously. I guess, then, we can credit them for the relative lack of ticks we have about the farm of late. It's always nice to be able to do tick checks without finding any offenders attached.

The alpacas and goats down a tub of water laced with cherry-flavored electrolytes daily. While the container stipulates that the electrolyte-water be the only source of water provided to the animals, I ignore that directive. The ruminants drink it dry daily, even though they have access to a number of automatic watering troughs around their pastures.

If only one could capture and bottle the summer's heat, to be taken out and savored midwinter. Now that would be a treat worth canning and preserving!

July is Too Hot for Coats

Alpacas stand in the sprinkler's spray to find respite from the heat.

Some days it feels as if I run and run without getting anywhere, and while this sounds very much like I might have described life before moving to the farm, the result is very different. Indeed, while I may spend afternoons shifting fences around to keep animals contained and still rotating from pasture to pasture, some larger chores have been allowed to slide--with potentially dire consequences.

As busy as I have been filling kiddie pools and running sprinklers for the alpacas, what I should have been doing was finding a shearer--and getting him or her to the farm in the Spring. Now Summer is here and our shaggy ruminants who evolved high in the cool Andes are suffering. Luckily I crossed paths with another caring alpaca farmer when I was at Edwards Feeds recently. Alarmed to hear that I had yet to engage a shearer, he gave me his wife's card and told me to call her for a referral to the woman they use. Thank you!

Now our alpacas have  an upcoming appointment with a Miss Gerdi. She sounds like a lovely woman, and the alpacas and I are eager to make the trek to her farm this weekend.

Getting Cool in the Pools

Alpaca Spencer claims a pool filled with cool well water.

The hot days of this season are much too warm for anyone who is overdressed. The livestock guardians continue to shed their winter coats in shaggy clumps, but the alpacas are not so lucky.  Unfortunately for them, I let shearing season slip by without managing to engage a shearer. (They do now have an engagement for shearing fast approaching, I am pleased to report.)

Shaggy alpacas jockey for position beside the sprinkler.

Alpaca fiber is delightfully warm in winter. These days our alpacas spend much time seeking respite in the shade and waiting for the sprinkler to be turned on at different times through the day. They can hear when the hose spurts to life and will hasten across the yard to reach the pools and sprinkler.
 
Their date with the shearer cannot come too quickly. Next year, I resolve to schedule shearing in a more timely fashion. 

Cooling Alpacas

'Paca boys crowd around the sprinkler.

This past weekend I brought home a sprinkler for the alpacas from the Farmers' Co-op. Now instead of hosing down the animals as they jocky for position--getting fairly wet and knocked-around in the process--I just set the sprinkler and turn on the water.

The animals appreciate the convenience, too. I will leave the sprinkler running until they have drifted away. I often did not have the patience to manage the hose myself for that long.



Alpaca gals enjoy standing beneath the sprinkler's falling spray.

True, filling the 'paca pools isn't quite the same, but it's do-able. If I could only figure out a way to fill the pools without them noticing, then call them to play in the water. Ha, that's an unlikely dream.
Better, I need to get on the stick and have them shorn. I missed doing it earlier in the season, and now it's getting critical to unburden them of their heavy fleece.

Haying Season

Here's the first cutting of our neighbor's pasture this year.

Haying season is upon us. This past weekend, everywhere I went, folks were cutting hay. All the rains this spring have promoted good growth. Now that we're in a dry spell, farmers are busily taking advantage of the weather.

We're not haying, of course. First, we have no tractor. Second, all of our pasture areas are used for grazing. As fast as the animals graze down the growth, I try to keep them moving. That, in itself, is enough work for me.

Watching tractors crawl across assorted fields is satisfying. Often when I have occasion to pass a cutting in progress, I'll take note of how far the farmer has gotten, then check his progress on my return trip. The whole process is delightful to watch: the ritual dance of farmers upon their land during warm weather.

Haying takes tremendous dedication and effort. I admire those who undertake the task, and I happily feed local hay through the winter and whenever our pastures need to recover.

Sweltering Days

Saturday's new pasture has been grazed down pretty well already.

The heat this Memorial Day weekend is nothing short of brutal. I've been trying to pick the pastures, build garden beds, and plant daylilies, but the process is very slow. One cart of horse "muck" at a time is all I can manage. Every stage of the new garden beds saps my energy. At times the air feels too thick to even breathe properly. Today I hit upon a system that works pretty well.

First I gather a cart of muck or bedding or rocks--whichever step I happen to be on--then take a break to read until the sweat stops pouring off my body. Each time I step back itno the house I announce, "It's brutal out there," which is true but I still turn around and head right back out into it. After perusing another chapter of today's novel, I heave myself up off of the front porch rocker and head back to work.

By the time I planted three dozen daylilies in a little bed, I was ready to head in for a shower and a nap. This is some serious weather.

Today the hay is being rolled into round bales.

Just across the road, the neighbor farmer is engaged in his annual Memorial Day weekend activity: haying the fields. As I made my measly attempts at working about this farm, I marveled at the fortitude of traditional farmers. They work until the job gets done; no rest for the weary. It's a hard way to make a living.

Recycling on the Farm

Welcome home!

Today was beautifully sunny and warm, well, edging towards hot, and I was glad to get home to the farm this afternoon. Lucy came to greet me as soon as I turned into our driveway, the dogs came down after I came in through the gate, and the recently-planted irises still sported a few bright blooms. We are truly blessed to live in this beautiful corner of the world.

After quickly exchanging work clothes for working garb, I headed down to pick the horse pasture. I had let it go a couple of days, so there's plenty of pickin' to be done. It took some minutes, but once the green SmartCart began filling up, filly Janet came by to investigate. Like her dam, Lucy, she understood that I was gathering manure and turned to help. Lifting her tail, she added to my treasure; I was glad to have it land directly on the tines of the muck rake so that tossing it onto the growing pile involved no scooping. Such thoughtful animals.

One little cart can only clear a small corner of this pasture, in one trip.

By the time a small corner of the pasture was clear, the cart was already piled high and I realized that I had better move it while I still could. Of course I had miscalculated and the cart was far more difficult to wangle up the hill and onto the drive than I had expected (although I nearly always make that mistake--you would think I'd learn?). So the brimming barrow that I had intended to haul uphill to the manure pile by the barn, instead formed the first layer of fertilizer on a new lasagna bed.

It appears that irises will line the drive just following the entry gate, and that those overcrowded irises that we planted recently will get thinned out a bit before they even take root. That way I will be able to leave them a couple of years before they begin to encroach upon one another.

Another bed begun.

The new bed began, as I like to begin, with feed bags. (Thanks, Tim Edwards!) The bags have a thin plastic layer between the paper layers which may help to retain moisture a bit and certainly should help to suppress weed growth. I know the plastic breaks down in time, because a bag left out holding trash will lose its base if left too long, but--at once--the plastic lingers for at least a couple of years when smothered in a garden bed. Atop the bags, then, a good double layer of cardboard. And finally the heavy load of manure. Yes, it's fresh, but it will be well down in the bed, not hurting anything--just helping.

That's one of the things I appreciate about this life--the ability to recycle so much right here at home. Feed bags line the gardens that grow grains to feed the animals that convert the feed to fertilizer for gardens. The cycles are continuous and can be counted on to reoccur with regularity.

Water Retention as a Lasagna Bed Layer

Engorged crystals demonstrate water-retaining abilities.

A few years back I heard about water-retaining crystals and found some online through a florist supply shop. Since then the idea has caught on and potting soil often comes with "moisture retention" properties. After we moved here I purchased a good quantity of the crystals that I package up in little jars and tote outside each time I start a new bed or pot. In years past we've mostly employed containers for gardening on this rocky bit of hillside, and these crystals have been invaluable in helping the potted plants to survive.

This spring I'm building lasagna beds with a vengeance. We have a grand store of winter bedding (a.k.a. fertilizer) to use, and I am taking advantage of it. When I remember, I'll sprinkle a layer of crystals near the base of a growing lasagne bed. I try to only do this step when I will be immediately following through with adding another layer to the bed; however, the photo above illustrates what can happen when one sprinkles crystals then walks away.

The photo shows a bed I'm building down towards the road--a location that is unlikely to ever get watered. (I generally rely on Nature to water, but during extreme dry spells I have been known to assist those plantings within reach of a hose. Anything outside the front gate is most definitely on its own.) We have had some heavy rains of late which is all the more reason that I ought not to have wandered away with this bed unfinished, especially not after having just liberally sprinkled a manure layer with the fine (dry) crystals. Yesterday as I went out the front gate, the bed adorned with freshly-moistened crystals greeted me, reminding me of yet another task needing attention.

Lest the crystals totally dry out--as they are wont to do in time if left without other moisture-absorbers to assist them--I shall have to finish layering this bed soon, perhaps this evening.