24. And Three Months Later…
So the whole regularly-blogging-our-farm-progress got away from me. Worse things have happened. In the interim, the house is slowly taking shape—more new ceilings and floors and paint and wood putty and fireplace accouterments (of which I will post pictures when closer to completion) but let’s just say that progress feels ever closer. It would be super-cool to be able to say that we got one room completed (in less than a year), but I’m not going to hold my breath. What’s the rush, anyway? Plenty of people live in half-finished homes.
On the farm, the baby chicks are now teens, interested in sex and laying eggs. We ended up, out of the seventy female chicks I ordered, with seven males. I wanted no roos, and now I have a menageries of really handsome, loud, rapey dudes (because let’s face it, what I observe happening between the roosters and the hens is in no way consensual). However, they spread their love around, so no one is getting hounded too fiercely, and they certainly have their charms: they protect, are excellent dancers, are really, really, really ridiculously good-looking, and now I don’t have to pay money to get baby chicks any more, since these guys will be creating them. A win, win, win which balances out, so far.
I’ve also heard that roos tend to get ornery with age, and since these guys are a mere five months old, I guess time will tell. The geese do scold them when they’re getting a little too randy, so I hope that Lolly and Juno continue to offer solid leadership in the future.
And speaking of handsome dudes, Lenny and Carl have grown into a couple of hilarious, lovely farm cats who come when called, catch mice, indulge in chicken chasing rarely, and are generally cuddle-monsters who like to step on my computer or notebook when I’m writing outside, or hop on my shoulder to bat the hair in my face, or drink my coffee if I leave it unattended. They are incredibly charming!
Rather than having a successful market garden this year, I cultivated eggs and weeds, and we made some money getting our field hayed by a neighbor (thirty-five one-ton bales), which is nice, considering that we made money ignoring work that needed to be done. We were then advised by said hay maker to grown soy beans next year. When in Rome, I guess…
So the past four months really have been exactly like the previous: working on and off the farm, working on the house, hoping for the best, and moving forward. The failures of this season have inspired some new ideas for the next year, and big conversations are about to be had revolving around the viability of hemp cultivation, and how we might plan that big step (since it’s so expensive to get started—just the certification alone is for one of us is $750, and seeds are about $.50 a piece. So one acre can yield about 1200 plants, which means that to cultivate just a single acre of this crop that will save the world, it will cost us $1350. This cost does not include the third party testing we must also complete at multiple intervals along the grow cycle in order to prove that we are growing a crop that is below the .3% THC threshold [a completely arbitrary level, by the way, that is costing many growers big bucks because we have to destroy the entire crop if it tests “hot”, and that THC concentration only gets higher as the plant gets older. Also, arbitrary since they can take out the THC when it is processed. Since this is a “new” crop, I hope that the feds get their act together on these rules soon, but a lot of hope from some big talk from lawmakers results in major losses from farmers who took a risk in cultivating industrial hemp for CBD.] Anywho, back to our regularly scheduled program…) The market garden will continue, and I plan on vending through the winter at the farmers market. Just yesterday, I planted and covered garlic, then covered some carrots and salad greens who have decided that November is a great time to make themselves known. I’m not complaining! I’ll take those veggies and crunch on them myself if no one wants them at market. Fresh carrots and greens are some of my farm favorites: I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again—though I do not wear scents, if a perfumer were to bottle the aroma of carrots fresh out of warm soil, I would wear the shit out it.
What’s that, you say? You’re only here for the pictures? Okay, okay! Below is what you came for:
Above: some of the beds covered for winter, Miss Juno gives me the stink eye, fall flowers, some lovely greens, the chickens take over my truck and demand a ride, and Mr. Wooly Worm predicts a tough a winter.