Now that Nelly is in jail and we’re paid off, my darling has found a new burst of energy. This week alone, she’s put up a chicken fence, done large amounts of mowing, cleaned and cooked a wild turkey we were gifted with, stacked about $70 of free firewood (from the same source), vinyl-tiled most of the utility room, cleaned the garage. She had a chimney sweep in and picked his brains about the stove (which, it turns out, has a backwards damper; “Lo” is “Hi”) and told me about helping “the man who’s going to keep me warm”, who said, “You aren’t a normal woman”, to which she said, “The gal you have your arms around is a Vietnam Veteran.” Vietnam-ERA, actually, but it was so much more ladylike than saying, “Yes, and if you make a move on me, I’ll stick this screwdriver through your eye socket and stir.” She is indeed NOT a normal woman, which is precisely why I love her.
She and the neighbor lady went to the auction at Rogers Friday, and we’ve decided that she’s not allowed to go without adult supervision. No, she didn’t bring home the $6 scrawny calf, though she wanted to. Nor English game cocks, nor silkies (both of which she has done in the past). She bought 40 Golden Comet chicks and came home with only 20. And those, I tell her, are male. She refuses to believe me. And 10 fertile goose eggs, which are now in our incubator alone with a few duck eggs. “DNA” is the watchword this year, leaning to get things to reproducing themselves. I’m trying to teach the rabbits to breed again…seriously, these girls have been having none of it, so I left the buck with them for a protracted period, figuring he’d score eventually. Due date is the 4th or thereabouts…I’ve got to figure out how to palpate them so I’ll know if they caught. I’m reading books on taking cuttings so that I can strew edible plants all over my property and half my elderly neighbors’ (she’ll thank me.).
No planting thus far. I did at one point catch a dry spell and tilled some, but nothing is in yet. The started plants are lame lame lame; I’ll have to buy more. I hope to open a third plot toward the orchard. I want to plant like crazy because I really don’t know what the fall will bring, and I’d rather have too much than not enough. Of course, this assumes they don’t get around to the Liquidation of the Kulaks, which seems to be the goal of most farm-oriented legislation introduced this session.
I’ve been wanting to write about this miracle of spring for awhile. There are a number of bloggers falling silent, or switching to God-blogging, because they can’t stand the pain of politics. I don’t blame them one bit.