April - A cold snap, destruction in the orchard, and renewal.

April is a polar month. Not in the sense that the weather is arctic, but rather in the sense that it is well known for its inability to make up its mind as to which season it belongs. It is neither hot nor cold. It is known not for its endless sunny days or its clouds.  Shall it rain today, or snow?  Many times you’ll find yourself dressing as for a sleigh ride in the morning and be in a tank top and shorts by afternoon. The one thing that is certain is that everyone, aside from the most warped among us, is dreaming of seeing Winter in the rear view mirror.

We have spent our Winter planning gardens, searching catalogs for patio cushions,

and looking forward to the day we can once again expose ourselves to the warmth of the sun without

running the risk of frostbite.

The beginning of April is, as always, a battle. It teases us with a little rain and a little sunshine.

We, in anticipatory haste, swap our chunky sweaters for our knit tops, and our floor length skirts are

packed away in favor of the knee length variety. This activity, while mentally uplifting, is only dashed to

deeper depths when Mother Nature decides to run afoul and change her mind again.  

This year we had ample moisture and for the first time the orchard looked like an orchard.

The branches were full of blossoms and heavy with thick leaves. I was thrilled that for the first time ever,

our orchard looked like a field of trees from the road instead of a twig farm.

Even the bees came out in time to take advantage of the abundance instead of taking a look outside

and rolling over and going back to bed. 

Fertilizer was going down monthly, and the spraying schedule was firmly in place. 

It was all going so well, until our local deer herd, heavily pregnant, got a craving for apple trees.

Nothing stopped them this year;bait, repellents, sprays, electric fencing, noise, dog urine/scent, soaps,

perfumes. They killed 16 of our 40 trees.Many were killed outright. Several were damaged beyond

saving, and others had to be pruned to the point of questionable salvageability.

With a great deal of green plants and grass around, I still have no idea why they targeted the trees.

It was not for lack of available food and it makes me furious.  I removed the dead and dying and am not

replacing dead trees from here on out. The cost involved as well as the time, when there is no way to

mitigate this herd or the damage it causes, has become insane.

The garden was beyond the planning stage as was in full growing mode in the seeding shed as were

about a million other seedlings and planters that were part of a Mother's Day Sale.

The greenhouse wasn't quite ready to use. Through remote thermometers and a web camera,

I was able to keep an eye on conditions day and night. While we could reach over 100 degrees on a

sunny 40 degree day, nights below freezing, meant the greenhouse temps would come crashing down

too. As evening temperatures rose towards the end of the month, night temperatures in the greenhouse

would stabilize to equal that temperature and thereby temper the young plants and get them ready for life

in the real world. That is a GOOD thing. Roasting them in a sauna all day, was not.

While the roof did have two vents, the way they were built were NOT stable enough to be open in prairie winds. I made a stacking blocks for each corner of the window from 2x4s and a tie down system that is attached to the shelves below. This worked ok if the door was open, but when the door was shut to keep our marauding hens, warm air could rise, but with no openings to let in fresh air, this was limited movement. I needed a way to let in fresh air, but not rain. I had to wander the hardware store for a while, but I came up with a solution finally, dryer duct covers! I cut holes for the plastic covers using a razor knife and used silicone to seal around the hole, the screws, and the vent. To make a caps for the hole, to keep out colder air in the Spring and fall, I found test caps in the plumbing department that simply needed a tiny edge removed with the Dremel to fit easily. I added 6 of these vents. On a warm, sunny day, the greenhouse can still go well over 100 with all vents and door open. Next year I will be ready with an external shade to knock down solar radiation.

I was also not going to raise chicks again, ever. I don’t like it. It’s not my job. That job belongs to a big fat hen. However, due to last month’s disaster, and a very old rooster, I didn’t see any way around having to go out and find chicks and raise them myself. I found myself, again, at the farm store, staring into large stock tanks glowing red with heat lamps, and full of fluffy, peeping cuteness. I lost 14 hens, some of which were on the cull list for the summer due to perpetual illness or lack of productivity, but that’s loss on my terms, not some stupid Mink’s decision.  Hmmm, how many should I get?  Four hardly seemed a worthwhile number for the cost, effort, and mess involved. A dozen? Sure, why not? In for a penny, in for a pound. 

I came home with a chirpy box, set up the grow out pen, and kicked back and watched what we dubbed

‘the dirty dozen’.  There are three breeds; Barred Rock, Cinnamon (one of which turned out to be a

legbar mix), and Buff Brahmas.  It’s wasn’t until they were older, and I could tell them apart that they

were given their names; November, December, January, February (Barred Rocks as they are black and

sprinkled with snow);March, April, May (cinnamons as they are red with decreasing amounts of white on

them), June is the legbar and has a funny hairdo; July, August, September, and October are the Buffs

and have increasing amounts of black on their tails, but are ridiculously hard to tell apart. Doc just calls

them the Yellow Daisies as they look like our previous girl Daisy who was a white sussex. 

The alpacas were just happy to not have mud squishing between their toes.

Mud squishing everywhere else however, must have a different criteria. They know I don’t care, as long as they hold off on the mud packs the week before the shearing team comes. To them, a warm,breezy April day is heaven. They know it won’t be too long before April gives way to May and their year old fleece gets hot when the weather teases with 80 degree days and the humidity rises. Sun’s out, guts out.

The Greenhouse - The One Week Project

 I have wanted a greenhouse for years. With last years difficulty with finding plant starts after a late freeze, and pandemic spending adding more first time gardeners to the shops, this seemed like the perfect year to actually put one up. I'd been mulling it in earnest for over a month, do I build one from scratch or purchase a kit?

I started looking at sourcing materials to build one. The price of lumber this Spring was insane. The cost of that alone was prohibitive. Then I'd have to source all the old windows, which for once, were completely missing on craigslist. I'd have to go with a kit.

The number and type of kits to choose from is ridiculous. I was loosing time quickly as it was the end of March and our date for planting is May 15th to June 1st, depending on the crop. Tick, tick, tick.

Once I settled on the size, and type, I needed to FIND one. It seemed the whole world was trying to go self-sustainable. Everything I found was back-ordered.

I finally found one locally at Harbor Freight. It didn't have the best reviews, but reading across the internet and what the problems were, I could easily mitigate them, I hoped.

I ordered this one and picked it up the next day.

I decided to build a real deck flooring for it, as no where on this property was level, it needed a strong base to attach to, and if it DID fail, I could use the good base as an investment to build a wood frame hot house.

I stopped by the lumber yard on the way home and got to work immediately. This was the day after the great hen house massacre, so the work and activity gave me an outlet for my guilt and frustration. The holes were dug and awaiting concrete, which had been picked up with the lumber. Under supervision of the remaining hens, I set the posts in concrete and called it a day. 

The next day was framing it out, trimming the posts, and building the decking. In true me form, it measured square, but sure wasn't. It's a trapezoid. But I did center all the deck boards and had Doc rip a couple of my boards to finish the two ends.

Day 4 found me sealing the gaps in the decking to stop airflow up through the floor, and then painting the whole thing 'go-away green'.

Day 5 was a second coat of paint.

Day 6 was a Saturday and the weather was going to be dry, rain free, and gorgeous. Doc agreed to help me put the whole thing up, which was a good thing, as I didn't think I had the brains left to do it alone. We sorted the parts out on the lawn and set to work.  It wasn't too horrible but did take the entire day. The instructions were not the best, but at least the parts were well marked. Had I followed the instructions from the start I would have found out an important thing, we were missing a critical piece. I had the panels up and clipped in place, but we were missing the upper frame of the door slide. Strong storms were coming in that night, and without that door assembled and shut tightly the open end of the greenhouse would blow out the whole building.

I called Harbor Freight to see if they would pop open another box to get my missing piece for me. They said they would gladly, if they HAD another one. NO! I called three other HF stores, the third one, an hour and 20 minutes away did and would open a box for me. I dropped everything, and left Doc on his own for lunch, and to assemble all the windows and the door while I was gone. 

I was there and back in 3 hours. 

Doc finished assembling the door frame and installed the door and upper vents, while I secured panels further with steel paneling screws. We put the last screw in and closed the door as the last of the daylight faded. The storms came in the early hours of the morning. The winds howled to 63 mph. I dreamt of going out in the morning to blown out panels all over. Nope. There she stood glistening in the sunshine.

Day 7 was Sunday. I let Doc get back to work on his grading as the semester was wrapping up. I spent the morning sketching out the shelving and storage for the greenhouse, and figured out what I needed to accomplish them. Then it was back to the lumber yard, and back with 2x4s that cost me an arm and a leg. 

I spent the afternoon painting them so they would dry and cure over night for cutting and assembly the next day.

Day 8 - Monday again. I walked the dog and then left her napping on the sofa. 
I let the hens out, opened the workshop high-bay door, cranked up the radio and set to work. 

I had the design all worked out on scrap paper, but double checked my measurements on the floor of the greenhouse, as there was no room for error, no second trips to the lumberyard without painting involved, and no scrap 2x4s in the shop to be had. While they were an easy design, I took my time in building the pair of them, and they took up most of my day.  I was able to install one of them alone with the help of furniture sliders. The second one, however, while the same weight and size as the first, couldn't be managed alone as the space in the greenhouse was now limited due the the first being installed. Someone had to balance the second while another crawled through and around in order to wiggle it from the open walk way into its final position. 

They look great, hold an incredible amount of flats, and weight, and make the most of the space. Spoiler Alert Photo from later in the season.  At one point we had over 1000 seedlings, and held a couple of plant sales locally. 

The Insanity of Spring and Summer Ruled the Roost

 The fact that it is September in less than 48 hours blows my mind. While I'm ready for cooler weather, I am not ready to give quarter to shorter days and giving over to the cold and wind I know is coming. I honestly do not know where the time went. One second we were babying the tender sprouts in the seeding shed, and preparing to move them to the new greenhouse, And then it was a race to get things in the ground and sold before the heat destroyed all my efforts. Everything I touched seemed to be up against a deadline. 

Before we knew it it was college graduation time, planting time, shearing, birthdays, the 4th of July, farmer's markets, another birthday, surgery for the dog, the start of University, harvest, canning, and the State Fair. 

Along the way there was fun, stress, anxiety, storms, milestones,and of course, some funny stories and some great photos.  To be honest, I thought I had written two posts that don't seem to be here. I don't know where they are, but they aren't here, which is ridiculously odd.  One was about building our new greenhouse, and the modifications I made and its review.  The other was about heartache in the hen house.  I distinctly remember writing them, so I'll have to see if I can find them. So I'll spend the next couple of days catching you up.

March 2021

March is the Month we snap out of Winter, or at least try to. After the Skunk situation, we had moved past the iffy days of the month, and were moving headlong into Spring.  Enough warm air came in to keep the intense moisture we began to receive as rain, instead of snow.  Rains came inches at a time and a stream seemed to run through the pasture on a regular basis as it worked its way down hill to the lake.

Fortunately, wet alpaca toenails are the easiest to cut. Unfortunately, this means you have to snuggle with a wet alpaca. Now I love the boys, but oh my, do they stink when they're wet. Imagine 200 pounds of hairy, stale, wet fritos. or popcorn. Ya.

Even soaking wet they're still cute.  We did let them dry out before we caught them, slapped their harnesses on them and lined them up for pedicure day.  Merriweather, sat happily atop the hay and supervised.  

There was a great deal of annoyance with the day we picked.  It has to be warm enough not to deal with bulky clothing. It has to be cool enough that you don't get hot and frustrated, while working. It needs to be dry (see above), but not too dry or the nails are hard to cut.  Add to this that my newest clippers weren't up to par, but the old pair had lost their edge. PLUS none of the boys wanted a pedicure.  Heathens.

Stormy refusing to get up and 
walk to the chute. He tucks his 
feet under, locks up, and goes boneless.

After a great deal of pushing, prodding, and pleading all their nails were trimmed and fleece was checked to see how it was progressing for shearing in May.

With the incredibly wet weather I entertained myself by cooking, planning the garden and planting successions, weaving, and building.

Whole Wheat Braided Loaf

Cinnamon Roll Twists

The Seeding Shed

Mini Woven Cording For A Set of 19th Century Stays

(The following contains the passing of livestock, for those of you that are sensitive.)

The last day of March was miserable.

I had found a small mouse hole in the corner of the run that had by-passed the security mesh. I decided to seal it with concrete the following day when I planned to set some posts for the new greenhouse. Little did I know that that would be a fatal delay.

Doc went to work, I and I went out just after dawn to let the feed the hens. It was terribly quiet, too quiet.  As I approached the chicken run, I noticed the fresh areas of digging by the door, then as I turned my head, I notice the area of the mouse hole had been dug out and slightly enlarged.

The actual hole is only 
1.5 inches in diameter.

Then I saw the first little body, then another, and another. I feverishly opened all the latches on the door to the aftermath of a massacre.  Feathered body after body lay around the run. I let out a wail of shock and sorrow that split the dead calm of morning. 

I spied the quiet survivors hiding in the coop, high up in the rafters. I raced around to the door to the coop and flung open the door, keeping my eye out for the killer who could still be lurking, threatening in the coop. More bodies littered the floor. 

Sadness on Many Levels

My mind pushed sorrow out of the way, and focused on rage, and as fast as that came it went working in overdrive looking over the survivors for a quick roll call. Merriweather, where was Merriweather? There she sat, high on a perch, behind the rooster.  I grabbed her and pet her while I continued to gather myself and assess the carnage. The alpacas the whole time, standing on the other side of the fence in vigil, had witnessed the entire event, and now me, lining up the dead near the coop. They knew something was wrong and just stood there wondering why their little friends were just lying in the grass. 
14 of my 24 birds gone. A single bite to the back of the head. Faster than they could flee the sneaky beast. The chicken keepers most deadly, ferocious killer, a mink.

I knew he'd be back that night to collect his work. We set out a trap, and just as the sun set, he was mine.  He was huge. 

This left a huge hole in our flock, which I of course swore I wouldn't fill, until I did. 

Feel free to laugh at this one. It's ok, really.

 It was going to be just another Saturday. For a change it was going to be nice out, sunny, not too windy, and around 65. Being a weekend day, Doc would be doing the animal chores to give me a break. But on this Saturday, he had a Boy Scout meeting that would take all day, and would be gone. So chores fell to me by default, as I would be the only one with thumbs.

I got up with the sun, washed my face,  pulled my hair up, set up the coffee machine and put my frozen block of oatmeal to thaw in the microwave. The dog got her  quick morning trip outside and her morning medicine, stashed stealthily in a mini-marshmallow, and her dental bone. I dragged my half asleep self down the stairs and slipped on my flip flops and staggered out to the workshop. I filled a 5 gallon bucket with fresh water for the hens, and then topped of their scoops of scratch and feed. I loaded up and wandered down to the hen house, listening to the early morning song birds in the trees, enjoying the smell of the fresh earth, and giggling at the excited chatter of the hens who heard me coming with breakfast. 

When I left the coop, I noticed all the alpacas in the corral lounging in the early morning sun, clearly they decided to sleep in the great outdoors. It was not at all surprising as the night had been relatively mild and lounging in the morning sun was one of their favorite pastimes. It was right up their on their favorites list with lounging in the pasture, sleeping in the field, and lounging in the barn. 

I caught an ever so faint musky odor as I came around the end of the barn towards the human door that accesses the barn.  That too was not unusual. Nocturnal wanderers were now out in full force, hungry bellies looking to be filled, springtime urges to find a mate, and just escaping a den full of newborns are all valid reasons for the parade of things that go bump in the night here and set off the motion cameras.  We've seen/heard them all: bobcats, deer, coyotes, cats, skunks, mice, rats, owls, opossums, fox, raccoons, mink- all things that sneak about, and all have a musky, magical odor. Hey, who wouldn't after sleeping all winter in a hole wearing a fur coat. The stink was very faint, and was probably left over from a recent walk through. 

When I got into the barn I put my now empty chicken water bucket down on the floor, the empty scoops inside, and called out to the alpacas to get them to at least think about getting on their feet for breakfast. Oh who am I kidding? I wasn't moving them, but at least calling out to them let them know I was in the barn and was putting out their breakfast, which they could then access at their leisure. 

I picked up their feed pail to fill at the feed buckets (we mix our own feed), and placed it on the shelf so I could spin open the lids to the alfalfa and alpaca pellets. I opened the first bin and tossed the lid on top of the bin. Then I heard a faint rustling....behind me. 

Now behind me, along the wall, is a large rubbermade trunk, the kind you store kids toys, or patio furniture in. We use this trunk to hold extra bags of animal feed to deter the mice. Today it was empty as Doc fills it on Saturdays, but he wasn't home.  Beside that was an empty feedbag that we were using as a trash bag. The window above and the main barn door were open, so I figured a slight breeze caught it and rustled the bag. Not giving it another thought, I opened the next bin and tossed the lid on top. I scooped out two measures of alfalfa into the feed pail and hear the rustling again. This time it was different.

This wasn't the sound of a bag scraping the wall in the wind. This was the sound of tiny claws on poly bag. I was not alone in the barn. I put the feel pail on the floor, and turned to face the trunk. Was it IN the trunk? The lid is easy to open and I'm sure the inside of the trunk smells fantastic. Had something burrowed under the bag, and under the trunk? The kick board base of the barn does need new stone there, something could have easily entered the barn from the outside at that spot. Was it IN the bag? Had something smelled the sweet feed remains in the bag, climbed on the trunk and then fallen in the bag and been unable to scale the slick bag to get out? We saw that a lot with mice in the workshop. Sad little things stuck in open bins and buckets. Was it BEHIND the trunk? Doc kept the trunk about 6 inches from the wall, so the lid would stay propped open when he used it. Come to think of it, I HAD seen droppings in the past, during Mulberry season, but that was months away and ago, in May.

Out of branches to explore on my tree of reason, I slowly picked up the trash bag, paying attention to the weight and if I felt any extra movement that was not mine or any more noise from it. Nothing. I placed the bag behind me out of the way in case my next action was to have to beat a hasty retreat. I didn't want it to become a slapstick comedy moment with me running to escape some horrible beast only to trip on a feed bag and konk my head on a steel door to then be eaten by said beast. Heck, I was already one step away from it being a 1950s horror film, just replace high heels with flip flops and I was the girl that was going to loose a shoe and be eaten by the monster. I reached out and put one hand on the window sill to brace myself so I could lean far over the trunk without touching it. 

There it was curled up about about the size of a football, just below the window and behind the trunk, a 'not a kitty'.  That's our kind way of saying skunk here. Without your glasses or in the dark or dusk, they look like a cat until you get that flash of white. Nope, not a kitty. Well great. I can't have that in here. If I let the hens out, they'll for sure disturb it and OH that will be fabulous. A coop full of smelly chickens,

like they smell of roses to start with. And if the alpacas startled it while exiting in the evening, that would be horrific on fleece two months from shearing, not that they smell grand to start with either, but stale popcorn is far preferable to skunk scented stale popcorn.  Nope, kitty would have to go. As Cary Grant in I Was A Male War Bride often heard after stating that he was traveling en route under Public Law #271 of the Congress, "Look buddy, I don't know where you're going to stay, but you can't stay here."

I opened all the doors in every direction. He was free to go. There were hundreds of acres literally across the fence full of holes and trees, and nooks and crannies for him to live in, but he had to go. I moved the trunk ever so gently further from the wall, no matter which way he looked when he opened his eyes he could easily see freedom. I gently nudged him with the end of the push broom. After all, while it was now my 8am, it was 3am in his world, How would I like it if someone loudly and forcefully shoved a broom in my side? 

He roused and looked around. (Dang it, they're so cute.) Then he tucked his little head back in his tail and headed back of to the Land of Nod. OH NO you don't. Another gentle nudge with the fuzzy end of the broom, and before he could re-tuck, another. Now he was awake, but not annoyed. But he also wasn't trying to go anywhere, nor was he hissing or anything. I am now 30 minutes past food and coffee, but priorities.

I kept poking with my broom trying to get him to move from his spot. He'd have nothing to do with it. I moved the trunk further from the wall thus removing his security blanket. This unsettled him some and with the next nudge of the broom, he let me know how much so. He unleashed all the fury that a small beast carrying a loaded bio weapon can, straight up the wall and the back of the trunk. Luckily this wasn't my first rodeo and I made sure the angles were all in my favor and I had some barriers between me and the loaded end. But aerosols being what they are, and being that there was an open window in this adventure, the gentle morning breeze ya. While I didn't get sprayed, I certainly got a lung and snoot full. There's a powerful stink. It's been a while since I've been that close to a fresh spray. What you smell at home when they walk by or when you pass a dead one on the road is NOTHING compared to ground zero at drop. 

It's a good thing I hadn't eaten yet. That little booger cleared my sinus', my lungs, and my stomach. I turned on the large overhead barn fans and the great north door to air the barn out. Each time I entered the barn I was gifted another lung full of 'country fresh', and each time would send me back out to lean over the fence and contemplate my life choices and nice condo on the beach in Florida. Each time I was done inspecting the fence, I'd glance over to the attentive alpacas, cushed in sun, chewing their cud and looking at me as if to say ' stinks doesn't he? It's why we slept outside. Plus. he snores.' Alpacas, pfft.

Now all of this airing out of the barn and checking the fence took well over 10 minutes. And at NO point did I bother the skunk again. SO I went back over to see if he had left. Nope, curled up behind the trunk again. Well that's not right. I know he sprayed the wall 3 times, but they can go up to 8 before they "run out".  I lifted the trunk slowly and through the corral door, hearing Dirty Harry in my head, keeping it between me and Pepe LePew. Once outside, I tossed it in the corner of the corral. The alpacas, now downwind of the freshly ordorized trunk, felt the need to leave the corral for the lower pasture. Cowards. 

As I walked back to the barn I saw the skunk waddle across the breezeway and under the steel feed shelf. NOOOOO! He had 4 wide open giant paths to the outdoors and he chose to squeeze under the 200 pound shelving unit, loaded down with barn supplies, ironic some of which were the animal traps. While I unloaded the shelves and piled everything outside i could hear him digging. There was only two ways this could go, under the barn wall to outside, or into the hay bay on the other side of the wall, which if he dug down would put him UNDER the rubber flooring. I had to move MUCH faster. I couldn't quite reach him in his far corner, even with the shelving panels removed, and it's not like I'm going to grab a skunk by the tail. So I tied the end of my tree trimming pole with a slip knot and put it around his tail and managed to get a back leg. I'm literally pulling a skunk out of a hole using a ten foot pole, when with one final push, he was under the wall. At this point, I have no idea if he has gone under the steel wall frame and under the hay, or under the gravel and under the rubber floor. And there was only one way to find out.

I won't lie. I swore. Loudly. Angus looked up at me from the pasture in disapproval, and then went back to beheading clovers. In frustration I tossed my pole into the yard. I had managed to touch something with spray on it, so now I wanted to divorce my own left hand. However I would need it for my next task. I needed to move 8, large, hardwood pallets, a feed bunk, bags of bedding pellets, 8 steel fencing panels, and sigh, 35 bales of stacked hay, all within inches of a skunk that was hidden among any of it. I would have cried if it hadn't become a comedy of errors with a sound track of 80s rock blaring in the background from the alpaca's radio. (Yes, they have a radio.)

Item after item, bale after bale, I moved everything neatly and methodically into the center of the barn. I just needed to find the skunk and get him out. The fewer the steps the better, keeping in mind that all of it had to go BACK into the bay eventually. I could smell him, but I couldn't FIND him. I became increasingly worried when I got down to the last stack of hay bales that he had gone into a hitherto unknown den under the flooring. Bale after bale was removed, getting closer to the pallet that kept it dry and up off the floor.  I pulled off the last bale slowly, hoping he would be there and hoping he wasn't. (Schrodinger's skunk, ha!) As I peeled back the last bale, there he was, asleep in the corner of the pallet.

I went to the hen house and grabbed a piece of plywood from a recent nest box renovation and snapped up the 5 gallon bucket I had used for the chicken water. My plan was to have this handy to trap him under the bucket and then slide the wood under the bucket and transfer him to the field next door. I grabbed hold of the pallet and slowly lifted it away from him and backed away. He kept sleeping. Man, I don't know what kind of party this critter managed the night before, but he was some sleeper. Then I started to think he maybe wasn't right, and was even more adamant on getting him away from my barn. I placed the pallet on the stack of other pallets in the center of the barn. Then I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. Just a flash of black and white as it slid back under the wall towards the shelf side again. Really? Really ? Oh there's a door right there, maybe he'll run out it. Of course not.

He's back under the shelf again. I tried to get him to go out of the door. He'd have none of it. I tried to get him to go out the barn door. That didn't suit him either. Back under the wall he went, but this time he seemed rather surprised that there was nothing to hide under, just a giant open bay. But then, and I swear I heard him sigh in relief, he spotted my giant pile of hay and equipment in the middle of the barn and off he went. Now let me just let you know right now, in case you didn't know, a skunk moves far faster than a 50 year old woman in flip flops.  There was no way I could cut him off of steer him towards a door with my piece of plywood. I would also like to let you know that while bales of hay LOOK rectangular, they are in fact, not quite, and I did not pack them high or tightly as I had no foresight that an insane, psychopathic, skunk, hellbent on ruining my quiet Saturday morning was going to use them as his personal corn maze to avoid being sent outside.

I won't lie, I swore a little more. As he maneuvered through the bales I could hear him. My goal was to just get him OUT. So as I moved a bale I stacked them higher and higher, until I couldn't throw them any higher (these are NOT light by the way). I made a chute at one point with pallets and bales, and found that Mr Sleepy head excelled at turning himself into a noodle and at the Olympic high jump. At one point, he zigged when he should have zagged and he ended up running into the open hay bay again, the hole under the wall now plugged with an empty feed bag. I had the bucket in hand and had him cornered, which is exactly what you NEVER want to do with any animal, but especially a skunk. He couldn't keep his eye on me though AND keep me in the cross hairs. So each time he slowly turned to aim, I froze. He'd relax and turn around and look for an escape. I'd shift the bucket closer. He'd turn. I'd freeze. After about 5 minutes, I just went for it. DOWN came the bucket, and under went the plywood, and off we went for a long walk to the neighboring fields. I do not think he'll be back. I'm not sure he was well. 

I closed the people doors to the barn and left the main doors open to air the place out. I blocked off the wet spray area and let the chickens out for the day. I stumbled up to the house and was greeted by a very enthusiastic beagle who wanted to not only know WHERE I had been, but what I had rolled in, and could she roll in it too.  I took her outside before heading to a much needed shower as the microwave called out that my oatmeal breakfast was done and where was I?(It's beeps once a minute when the cooking cycle is complete until you clear it or open the door.) After three hours, even the Keurig had given up on me and went back to sleep. Oh you lucky appliance.

After my shower, I scrubbed my hand down with a concoction that was developed here at UNL for skunk spray so that I didn't have to remove my own hand. My cell phone case wasn't salvageable, so that went in the trash. I skipped the oatmeal and went right for lunch, before going out to tackle putting the barn back together and spraying down the wall.

And yes, Doc had a nice quiet day down at Scout Camp, but I hear Boy Scouts can be stinky too.

Odds and Ends

 The cold snap and the effort and energy it took to get through it was insane. While you would think all that free time inside would afford a great deal of opportunity for project completion, you would be wrong. Everything took extra time to do, which burned energy and motivation to accomplish anything more than just making it through the day, quickly dwindled.

Smiling Angus

Even small things removed from the 'to do' list felt like major achievements that required celebration.

Delicious

The alpaca yarn for weaving was done at the Fiber Mill, so I drove out and picked that up. It turned out to be a lovely day, albeit a long drive. One bag of seconds, we decided to turn into batting or felt, for other projects. I'll go out and get that in a week or two.

The sewing table has seen it's use the past few weeks.  A set of 18th century pockets filled one snowy afternoon. Another was dominated by up-cycling an old quilt into a late 19th century quilted petticoat. I came across a full 9 yard bolt of woven plaid for a 1840s working dress and ordered the pattern to create it.  (I still need a nice contrasting fabric and 16 buttons.)And I made up another pair of aprons and another linen skirt.  Of course, another round of masks needed to be made. (I would never have guessed a year ago we'd still be wearing them, but here we are.)

The sewing list is no where near gone, but it is smaller.

The old knit dish cloths finally ran their useful lifespan, so I've been spending the quiet hour or so before bed knitting or crocheting new ones. Handy little things.

On the tape loom, I have 6 yards of cord in progress for my 18th century stays. The stays are a lovely bark brown and I chose the same brown for the ties with the addition of a deep mustard yellow.  It's quite nice.

On the baking front, I finally became annoyed enough with the NutriMill mixer and bread dough. I think the problem is the plastic bowl. It is so slick that the bread dough hooks grab the dough, but the dough has no purchase on the bowl and instead of getting kneaded, just slides in circles around the bowl. I found a dough machine that is usually used for making Chinese dumplings, but works just as well for bread. It not only mixes the dough, but also has a fermenting/proofing cycle that gently warms the bowl and allows for a great rise. This is awesome, as it frees up my microwave, which I was using as a proofing box. I am getting far better gluten development from this mixer than any other I've owned. Think of it as a bread machine, but without the bake cycle. (NO affiliation or profit. I bought it on my own.) It is the The Bear Dough Mixer I even used it to make whole wheat croissants! They were AMAZING!

As Hard And Fast As It Came, It Left

 Spring has sprung. 

The alpaca coats fresh from the laundry, airing on the deck.

The Cold snap lasted 22, long, hard, miserable days. It was physically demanding, and draining on the soul. The alpacas were tired of hunkering down in the barn, fully unwilling to go out into the chill. They preferred to sit and chew their cud, toes tucked under their warm and toasty bellies, their warm winter coats helping with the chill, on a deep bed of straw.  

The hens, we didn't loose anyone, seemed to ride it out just fine. There was little moisture in the air and they were safely out of the wind. We had no cases of frostbite in the coop this year. By the end of day 22, they were more than ready to get out of that coop and into a lovely 32 degree, sunny day.  When I finally open the door, a great tidal wave of feathers poured from the chicken run. They didn't seem the least bit disappointed that their was no green grass to eat, or bugs to chase. They were just happy for the change of scenery and to be able to stretch their legs. With great leaps and bounds, with flapping of wings and singing of song, they bounded across the snow covered barnyard before finally settling down and looking for things to eat.

The temperature slowly crept above the freezing mark, and before we knew it we were in the 40s, the 50s, the 60s, OH MY the 70s!  Even the people went from being unrecognizable masses, bundled under layers upon layers, to being half naked, soaking up every photon from the great orb in the sky and letting it soak deeply, and warmly in to pale skin.  We all broke out shorts and shirt sleeves at about 50 degrees.

This increased, and much needed warmth, was rejuvenating.  If you looked ever so closely in the matted, flattened, straw colored thatch, you could spot the tiniest speck of green. Baby clover leaves reaching out to see if it was safe to come out.   The increases warmth causing rivers of water which had been previously trapped in the snow pack. You could actually hear it running under the thatch, finding it's way downhill. The large 4 foot drifts and plowed piles that framed every road and every driveway, didn't stand a chance.   

The winds then came, as they do in March. In Nebraska, and especially on this hilltop, they aren't subtle either. They begin as a whisper, then a yell, their howling becomes screams and while it did a wonderful job melting the snow and drying the sod, the winds made it nearly impossible to enjoy time outside. Tree limbs snapped, causing power to go out. Luckily we keep water banked for the animals if we loose power (no power=no well pump=no water). We also keep water banked for us, coffee and tea must be available.

Then came the deluge. I was joking with a fellow meteorologist last week, that since we've moved here, the records have fallen left and right. I'm starting to take it personally- record snows, drought, hail, cold snaps, low temperatures, high temperatures, dew points, air pressures, moisture in a day or for a single storm. It's becoming ridiculous. 

I've been keeping my eyes open for a couple of days of slow rain so that I could apply some nitrogen fertilizer on the hay field.  I saw it coming and drove out to pick up 500 pounds of nitrogen and 500 pounds of moisture retainer product to spread in the problem drought areas of the hay field. I hooked the rake to the tractor and thatched the whole field, keeping an eye out for invasive cedar as I went. Then I spread the products with the new broadcast spreader. Six hours later and the hay field was clean and fed, and just waiting for the rain. I managed it 5 days before the storm. Then the track changed. Our models increased the totals with each and every run. But the time the rains ended, we had managed 7.47 inches over less than two days. I'm hoping it came down slow enough the first 4 hours to dissolve the nitrogen in the soil. Time will tell. I'll either have a lush hay field, or the greenest drainage ditch in the county.

I have the fertilizer for around the house proper, but besides the ground being a bit too soggy for the tractor, the rain coming up with be another 3 inch fall in 24 hours. So I'll wait for another day on that project.

Also in the land of pleading for Spring, the potting shed is open and sprouting seeds. So far I've started the marigolds, horse radish, onions, and one variety of tomato, a new variety, cloudy day.  Now that those have sprouted, I will start the San Marzano tomatoes.

Which leads me to the next major project ~A greenhouse~

I purchased a hoop type greenhouse that a man down the road has. He has 4 of them and used to own a commercial nursery. Now in his spare time he starts plants, and gives them away for donation, and also has the most amazing tomato patch. I swear it's the annual planting process that is keeping him going. He's a dear soul and has the touch for sure. His greenhouses are in the village and between the garage and house and have never budged from their spot. He said he's never had a lick of trouble with them. So I purchased the same one. 

I actually bought it last June, and put it away for this Spring. I picked a lovely 75 degree WINDLESS day to put it up. It snapped together in the blink of an eye, with heavy steel tubes with push-pin to lock, male and female ends. The cover looked heavy enough and slid right on. Following online suggestions, I did make a large, heavy, wooden frame to sit around the outside edge to hold down the apron. I used their supplied tie down cords, which were little more than poly baling twine and cheap, short tent stakes. First thing the next morning I went out and purchased 18 inch long industrial stakes and used paracord with taught-line knots to secure their covering. That was on Wednesday and Thursday. Friday the wind picked up, just a little. Saturday, the winds really picked up. At 30 mph, which is nothing for here, she was just fine. Sunday morning we were gusting to 37. On a walk with the dog, Doc noticed that the cover was ripped, the green house cover was floating above the frame like a kite. All of my tie downs and cord were secure, but their seams had ripped. I packed it up and returned it. 

I've wanted a real one for years, but other projects came up. We fell in love with one from Kansas at a garden show. But they're backed up in ordered for MONTHS. I could design my own and build it, but quite frankly boards and sacks of concrete are getting heavier and heavier as time goes by. I could have the shed company that has done other work for me design and build one for me, but they're backed up as well.

So I opted for a you assemble it kit from a local hardware store. As nowhere on this property is level, I'll be building a platform frame for the base and then install and secure it to that. I have high hopes and yet none at all. 

We shall see.