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@yardtotable
I guess today we are officially farmers: we had to kill Bess (the nicest hen, who is shown here on July 23, when she was fine) - she had a prolapsed vent. It wasn’t pretty, but neither is dying slowly, which is the cowardly way I let the past three go. It was seven fine years with you, pretty girl, thanks for eggs.
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Communed with apples today - freed the Gravenstein tree from the tangle of thimbleberries and raspberries, collected a basket full of fallen fruit, and made apple sauce with our new(ish) Vitamix (blend apples with lemon juice, simmer, put in jars, freeze).
Yesterday's harvest: purple kohlrabi, desert king figs (our first off our little tree!), huge delicata squash, Gravenstein apple, broccoli. It's getting crazy over there. (Not RNC crazy scary, more like crazy awesome.)
From Thursday. I let the nice chicken (Bess) follow me out of the coop when I filled the water before work. (I miss letting them roam the yard - but not scraping poo off the patio.)
The fruit trees stopped mooching and are getting with the program! Gravenstein apples & figs.
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Blueberry lemon gelato!
First tomatoes and plum! End of the snow peas and strawberries (though these are from our new everbearing plants!).
A little tour of our native wildflower meadow on the farm next door. I seeded it last fall and reseeded in patches this spring.
The whole family shelled fava beans this morning. (We were flabbergasted at kiddo’s sustained interest in it!)
Wet hens yesterday, and Pat's red belly (gross).
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You don’t mind if I just put this here do you…?
Bess, our Americauna, here is dominating/snuggling Grace, our Sicilian Buckeye, while Pat, the Andalusian Blue, looks on.
We lost another chicken last week, the fabulously docile Flossy, our Buckeye (raise Buckeyes - they’re so nice!), due, I believe, to complications from our mite infestation. We’re down to six birds now and the roost hierarchy is totally bonkers. My parents were here for Memorial Day weekend, so my dad lent a hand thoroughly cleaning the coop, building an outdoor run, and subjecting them all to Neem oil baths. They’re pretty out of sorts.
Handling them for the baths revealed red and raw tummies on a few and terrible scaly leg mites on Lou, the White Sultan - who has feathered legs, so they’re harder to treat. Crossing my fingers they can recover.
RIP Jackie (Kennedy) the Silver Laced Wyandotte (on the perch in the center between Pat and Bess from a 2012 photo), April 22, 2009-April 29, 2015. You were a bossy girl and a fine looking hen, I’m sorry you suffered these last few days.
Tip: After spreading two huge bags of Starbucks’ coffee grounds on your straw bale garden, make sure your former racing hound does not start eating them. Beware the 4 am wake up call from your #caffeinatedgreyhound
The apple trees look so much happier this spring. Last year we got our first apples, maybe this year we'll get our first real crop! (Gravenstein on the left, Ashmead's Kernel on the right - my dad helped me transplant it in February.)
More morel photos - I bought a macro lens attachment for my phone just for this sort of fun!
Also, should you be looking to cultivate morels (mine are pure luck, but I want to encourage return visits), I found this page on The Farm website via a quick web search. Unless you’re a person who keeps agar laying around and likes to sterilize things (not it), skip to step 25. Maybe the apple and plum wood we use in the pizza oven helped them along? (Aside: The Farm is the communal home of Ina May Gaskin and her crazy influential midwife practice. It seems too perfect that they’d be growing mushrooms. I’m sure there are laboring women there right now wandering around picking morels.)
Later, upon further web searching: or it could be they like the aspen trees!
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Yard morel not too far from the one a couple years ago!
This is what a new walker makes of a record-setting rainfall!