vituperation

Life continues here. There’s nothing notable to write about today, only some images from around Crooked Acres to share. I don’t know if it’s possible to love a home any more than I love this place. It’s the strangest thing; I’ve liked the other houses we lived in, but I never felt the same, well, connection, for lack of a better word. Used to be, I looked forward to leaving work because I was leaving work. Now, I look forward to leaving work because I’m coming home.

Something about this place is different from our other houses. I don’t know if it’s the age and character, or the space, or all the sweat equity we’ve invested, but almost daily I’ll find myself overwhelmed with joy at being here.

Different things spark the feelings: watching the chickens run across the yard in their hilarious slow-motion lope, wings extended for balance and heads bobbing; picking a bumper-load of veggies after a rain; riding the tractor as I cut the back forty on a hot sunny day. Most of the time the catalyst for the joy is random, but there are two things I can always count on to bring it.

Walking the property after all the grass has been freshly cut does it to me every time. There’s something about the smell, about the expanse of green and knowing that it’s all ours. Matter of fact, I spent the better part of the day yesterday cutting all our grass, and it was the sight of the property when I was done that led to this entry. I wanted to share pictures.

Cutting everything took me about five hours, but the time flew by and the sense of accomplishment at the end was nice, as was the view.

The other thing that always makes the happy feelings well up in me is a little odd: going down the stairs. I wish I knew what it is that does it. I know that when we first looked at the house, the smell in the stairwell was very comforting to me, like an old library. That smell isn’t as strong now, probably because of all the paint and stain and polyurethane, but there’s still a hint of it. I suspect there’s some old memory buried deep in my subconscious that our stairwell brings out.

What’s especially strange is that going up the stairs doesn’t do it, just coming down. More specifically, it’s coming down the lower portion that does it. Without fail, I get inexplicably happy as I round the newel post, one hand sliding over its age-worn surface — but I ain’t complaining. I’ll take all the happiness I can get. Who wouldn’t?

Anyway, thus ends the touchy-feely portion of the entry. I’ll shut up now and make with some pictures. I have a date with a chicken coop and a pitchfork.

At Crooked Acres, animals that are normally enemies are the best of friends:

Sorry for the blur; it was through the screen door.
Had I gone outside, the chickens would have come running in hopes I had food.

And with good reason, because most of the time I *do* have food.
I discovered last week that the girls love them some green cantaloupe,
so any time I find one that’s had a rind breach (bugs), I pick it and give them a treat.

The girls turn 18 weeks today, the youngest age at which egg-laying begins.
Sometime over the next six weeks we should start getting eggs.

Hopefully, the next six weeks will tell us for sure what Frick’s sex is.
I’m starting to think maybe he’s actually a she.

This view makes me really happy.

Sunshine and sunflowers would make anyone happy.
Most of ours are starting to get top-heavy and tippy now.

We had a couple of garden woes this last week, and I had to do a little surgery. First, our squash was infested with squash vine borers (bugs). Originally, when the leaves started turning yellow with white spots, I thought we had powdery mildew and treated it accordingly. It looked for a few days like it was getting happier, but then it took a turn for the worse. Production fell more and more, and I finally decided to pull it up and just plant more.

Such is the joy of having a long growing season.

When I pulled up the first vine, I snapped the stalk and found it full of white grubs. I knew right away what they were, because I’d read about them. I wish I’d read more, though, because I didn’t realize that the little gray stinkbug-looking things I’d seen in the garden were adult borers. I guess that’s neither here nor there, though, because once you’ve got borers you’re pretty much screwed. The most effective treatment for them is a proactive approach.

The other problem in the garden was the melons, and especially the watermelons. Our garden patch was wild grass when I first tilled it, and as such, the ground was loaded with seeds. That’s the main reason we’ve had such a weed problem this year; after a couple of years the weeds shouldn’t be such an issue.

I kept the melons well-weeded as long as I could, but once they started running I left them alone because everyone told me if you touch/move the melon vines too much it’ll kill them. The weeds in the watermelon reached my shoulders last week, and were such a thicket all the watermelons were getting choked out. The melons were stunted, the leaves were yellow and sickly, so I made the executive decision to raze the watermelon area.

The cantaloupes are still around because the weeds aren’t as bad with them, and we may still be able to save something there. We have probably 100 close-to-ready cantaloupes out there. Hopefully some of them will make it.

Here’s what the squash and watermelon spots look like now.
You can see the edge of the cantaloupes at the bottom right.

I was able to save two watermelons for rind preserves.

And speaking of preserving things, this is what cannery row looks like now.

So far, Robyn has frozen several bags of green beans, and we have fifty-six pints canned. We would have more, but we pitched several pints because we discovered that the first canning method made the green beans mushy.

Fifty-six pints so far, from a single row of green beans.

This is a SECOND row of green beans, planted a month ago when I thought the
first row wasn’t producing enough. These guys should start flowering soon.
I may end up divorced over this.

The black-eyed peas are finally starting to come in.

We ate these last night with dinner. They were phenomenal.

This is the whole row of black-eyed peas. Once again, I may have planted too much.
If there’s a such thing.
My motto in life: why just do something when you can overdo it?

A couple of cantaloupes, taking their time about getting ripe.

Yeah, plenty of tomatoes. Robyn canned four pints of salsa for me yesterday,
using tomatoes, onions, green peppers, and jalapenos all grown right here.

The okra is almost as tall as I am now.

Little cukes are coming in.

The eggplants are very happy. We’ve been having parmagiana regularly for weeks.

Peppers and Japanese eggplants, waiting to be eaten.
I may try making some pepper jelly soon.

My mid-summer experiment: two more rows of corn and a row of squash (not yet sprouted).
The plastic is to keep the weeds out, and I’ll put mulch around the plants once they’re a little taller.
I’m also running soaker hoses down each row. If this works, I may do the whole garden this way next year.
Invest some time and energy up front, and free up a LOT of weeding time over the rest of the season.

Our tiny little orchard. All the fruit died in the big April freeze.

The pecan trees bounced back pretty well after that freeze, and almost all of our trees
have green pecans right now. They’re not loaded down, but we may get enough for a pie or two.

This view gives me irrational exuberance.
And a desire to clean the lens of my camera.

Even Poltergeist tree makes me joyous.