Spring has arrived at Lazy Bee Farm this week. While it has been nibbish at night -- around 32-degrees -- the days have brightened to a sultry 66-degrees. This is the kind of weather that makes a young or, a-hum, older, woman's thoughts turn to babies. And chickens. And dirt.
Maisey and Monk are a delightful pair at six weeks. They bounce about the lots, surf the cow's back (should she be in a really good mood and resting by the hay stall), and pull out tufts of hay -- for eating and piling. They are in their forever home it seems. I am smitten with Maisey who bawls just like her Momma Mia. I adore how her ears airplane around her little horn sprouts. Monk has taken over Don's heart. Both come when called, which only makes it harder to even consider letting them leave for another home.
Diddles, as we call 'em in the South, have been order to supplement (actually replace, but don't tell) the aging hens who are not pulling their weight in the coop. By mid-April we will have 50 brown egg layers from Murray McMurray basking in the grow lights of the coop. Come July we will have eggs from them, we hope. We can't keep up with our egg orders now, so having new hens just makes sense. We are expanding to the Farmer's Markets this year, with our friend Shelly, and hope that the eggs will be a big draw.
Delivery men bearing boxes of assorted shapes, sizes, and weights have kept Moose and Annabelle busy this week. As the official greeters of Lazy Bee Farm, the dogs, er, greeters, have sniffed every package to determine orgin, contents, and connections to other dogs in far away places such as Maine and Piedmont Virginia. Heirloom seeds from Southern Exposure Seed Exchange and potatoes from Wood Praire Farm have delighted us with their creative packaging and interesting contents. Now, if the ground would only dry enough to plant our early crops...
Shelly, Don, and Alvin started greenhouse construction yesterday as I chased down the greenhouse cover in Henry County, Va. Puckett Greenhouses is the most interesting business; it is tucked up a hollar and fills it to overflowing with greenhouses and equipment. I counted 15 houses full of plants, seedlings, and other delightful gardening supplies. It smelled like heaven next to the office. Upon investigation, Mother and I found a greenhouse door propped open and jasmine in full bloom twining around the posts and up along the roofline. Surely, God selected jasmine to scent heaven.
This week, tragically, spring break is over. I still believe I have the best job in the world; I am so grateful that it gives me time to pursue the things that make life wonderful. Babies. Chickens. Dirt. Who could ask for more??
What are you doing to celebrate Spring?
Showing posts with label spring coming. Show all posts
Showing posts with label spring coming. Show all posts
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
No Weeds, Yet
What is there about a seed catalog, Farmer's Alamanc, and a foot of snow that makes anything green seem so possible??
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Well, Blow Me Down!
Who has seen the wind?
Neither I nor you.
But when the leaves hang trembling,
The wind is passing through.
Who has seen the wind?
Neither you nor I.
But when the trees bow down their heads,
The wind is passing by.
Christina Rossetti
Should the wind ever stop blowing, it will be a miracle along the lines of loaves and fishes. However, until then, we are learning to tie on our hats, securely close the outer doors, and leave nothing outside that we don't want to fetch.
Probably the most poignant thing is watching the birds struggle to get to the feeders. We are under siege from blue jays, cardinals, phoebes, house wrens, and chicadees. They struggle to reach the feeder and then to hold on before being swept off by the wind. Finally, they give up and go to the snow to collect a little dinner before flying off to shelter.
Even the cats are disinterested in hunting right now. They are staying balled up on the porch, following the sun as it travels from the front porch to the side before slipping behind the mountain. Tiggie, the 19-year-old cat, has discovered that she can fit just in the crook of Annabelle's (the Pyrennes) tummy and legs if she wiggles down just right. I wish I could catch a quick shot of them sleeping, but they leap up, almost ashamed of being a peaceable kingdom of dog and cat sharing body heat. They adamantly refuse to come indoors, preferring the porch or the shed to the over heated kitchen.
Today at work, after a week off because of extreme weather, my office mates and I agreed to change our door art to spring time wreaths. Holding hope in the sympathetic magic of like drawing like, flowers, birds, and butterflies now fill our office doors. If nothing else, we have brought spring indoors and have planted a little seed of hope for warmer days. Or, we have confirmed that humanities faculty are indeed a little off plumb. Your choice.
In the meantime, I tie on my boggin, layer long johns, sweat pants, insulated bibs, long-sleeved shirt, sweatshirt, insulated jacket and gloves, go out to the barn with the goats and sit in the sun which surfs between the clouds. And I dream of bees making cleansing flights and honey.
Added at 6:39 p.m.: I know why I have been cross about all the snow. My feet have been really cold. Ends up one pair of boots had a hole in 'em I didn't notice until my feet were noticably wet. So, I put on a pair of my son's (with thinsulate and two pairs of socks). Warm! I love winter and snow again!
Neither I nor you.
But when the leaves hang trembling,
The wind is passing through.
Who has seen the wind?
Neither you nor I.
But when the trees bow down their heads,
The wind is passing by.
Christina Rossetti
Should the wind ever stop blowing, it will be a miracle along the lines of loaves and fishes. However, until then, we are learning to tie on our hats, securely close the outer doors, and leave nothing outside that we don't want to fetch.
Probably the most poignant thing is watching the birds struggle to get to the feeders. We are under siege from blue jays, cardinals, phoebes, house wrens, and chicadees. They struggle to reach the feeder and then to hold on before being swept off by the wind. Finally, they give up and go to the snow to collect a little dinner before flying off to shelter.
Even the cats are disinterested in hunting right now. They are staying balled up on the porch, following the sun as it travels from the front porch to the side before slipping behind the mountain. Tiggie, the 19-year-old cat, has discovered that she can fit just in the crook of Annabelle's (the Pyrennes) tummy and legs if she wiggles down just right. I wish I could catch a quick shot of them sleeping, but they leap up, almost ashamed of being a peaceable kingdom of dog and cat sharing body heat. They adamantly refuse to come indoors, preferring the porch or the shed to the over heated kitchen.
Today at work, after a week off because of extreme weather, my office mates and I agreed to change our door art to spring time wreaths. Holding hope in the sympathetic magic of like drawing like, flowers, birds, and butterflies now fill our office doors. If nothing else, we have brought spring indoors and have planted a little seed of hope for warmer days. Or, we have confirmed that humanities faculty are indeed a little off plumb. Your choice.
In the meantime, I tie on my boggin, layer long johns, sweat pants, insulated bibs, long-sleeved shirt, sweatshirt, insulated jacket and gloves, go out to the barn with the goats and sit in the sun which surfs between the clouds. And I dream of bees making cleansing flights and honey.
Added at 6:39 p.m.: I know why I have been cross about all the snow. My feet have been really cold. Ends up one pair of boots had a hole in 'em I didn't notice until my feet were noticably wet. So, I put on a pair of my son's (with thinsulate and two pairs of socks). Warm! I love winter and snow again!
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
A Month of Love
February. The time of year that we are closer to spring than winter. The time of year when we are pouring over seed catalogs and making our lists and checking them twice. The time of year our thoughts turn to love.
February is one of my favorite months. Maybe because it has the courage to be shorter than the other months, proving that it doesn't need no stinking 30 days to be complete. Oh no. Not February. It is complete with 28 days, with an occassional 29 thrown in from time-to-time.
Its flower is a violet, my most favorite flower on the planet. It qualities include faithfulness and modesty. The colours associated with it are purple and violet. Again, my favorite colours as they represent not only royalty (I am a woman -- hence, queen of my domain) and spirituality.
This is the time of promise and possibilities. The weeds are not in the garden yet; every row is straight, well-tended, and fruitful. The sun is always shining and every day is perfect.
Welcome, February!
February is one of my favorite months. Maybe because it has the courage to be shorter than the other months, proving that it doesn't need no stinking 30 days to be complete. Oh no. Not February. It is complete with 28 days, with an occassional 29 thrown in from time-to-time.
Its flower is a violet, my most favorite flower on the planet. It qualities include faithfulness and modesty. The colours associated with it are purple and violet. Again, my favorite colours as they represent not only royalty (I am a woman -- hence, queen of my domain) and spirituality.
This is the time of promise and possibilities. The weeds are not in the garden yet; every row is straight, well-tended, and fruitful. The sun is always shining and every day is perfect.
Welcome, February!
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