Just a reminder, for long-time friends and readers, that all family blogging takes place here, at www.armyof10.com. I think I only mentioned it once, and so if you haven’t checked that out, please do! I’m trying to get back into the habit of regular blogging, and that’s where I post all things personal. See you there!
The ducks are nesting again. Only a few survived from the first round, due to a certain new puppy with an abiding love for eggs. They nest in the barn, some on the storage side, and some in the actual barn space. I try to keep doors closed so the dog can’t get in, but sometimes other people forget. If we can get a good crop born, I’d like to put some into one of our chicken crates for the twelve weeks it takes to harvest them. I really love duckling.
Our chickens, on the other hand, are doing quite well. They’re growing fat and sassy on fresh yogurt, our all purpose grain ration, and damaged tomatoes from the garden. And they eat every green thing growing in their square. They are excellent weeders.
So, the green beans. I planted these back in April with the rest of the garden, and they grew so thick and lush, but with nary a blossom. I thought maybe the soil was too rich for them. Some plants favor leaves over blooms in good soil. Well, whatever their problem was, I’m pleased to say they are entirely over it! Perhaps we’ll get some beans this year after all.
We have all our winter hay in! Alfalfa, round bales and square ones, too, and, God bless Mr. Roberts for even putting most of it in the barn for us. It is extremely comforting to have that taken care of. Now we just need to acquire a supply of split firewood. I’m not sure why David isn’t splitting any this year, but he isn’t.
We have one cow in to the processor who should be coming home this week in the form of ground beef, and our last steer is scheduled for departure on the 10th.
Funny story: When we dropped off the first cow, I scheduled the date for the second. “We’re pretty booked with all the fairs,” he said. “I can’t get you in until the end of August. Is that okay?”
“That’ll be fine,” I said.
“Okay. Then it’ll be Wednesday, August 29,” he said.
“Perfect,” I replied.
“That’s Wednesday, August 29,” he repeated.
“Okay. I’ll remember,” I said.
“August 29. Now remember that’s going to be a Wednesday,” he stressed.
Perplexed, I replied once more, “Okay. Wednesday, August 29. I’ll write it down as soon as I get home.”
It was the strangest encounter. He does not normally repeat himself like that. All the way home, I pondered his strange behavior.
Because I have a short memory, I went to my planner to write down the date as soon as we got in. And guess what? There is no Wednesday, August 29! It’s a Saturday! Wednesday is the 26. Did I remember the date wrong? No, I don’t think so. It seemed like the July date might fit, so I flipped back a few pages. Yup! July 29 is a Wednesday!
I called the processor back to confirm the date. “No I don’t have you down for August,” he said. “Let me check July. Yes, there you are, July 29. It’s a Wednesday.”
Actually, I’m still finding the whole conversation odd, and I ended up having to change the date because I hadn’t taken him off the green grass, yet.
But at least we have a date. I can’t wait for those ribeyes.