Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Additionally, there was no commentary on Boo's health, which is fine save the odd wound we discovered Sunday evening near his leg. Jeremy managed a trip to the land last night to check on our patient before heading out for the raccoon repellent. When it rains....
And finally, the biggest omission from yesterday's saga was something Jeremy didn't witness during the early morning nap he snuck in before work. Once Eleanor was removed and the girls were settled, the two lowest ranking hens in the backyard pecking order (Graciela and Dita von Teese. Don't question the chicken names, people) flew from their roosts onto the ground. As if on command, each set off in opposite directions along the fenceline, marching out and defining their territory. Stomp, stomp, stomp, stop, turn, cock head to listen, shake feathers to look twice her size....stomp, stomp, stomp. They marched for two hours until the sun rose while the other ladies slept off their shock. Two little soldiers standing sentinel throughout the remainder of the dark morning.
I already knew my life was becoming more mixed up and poorly defined the further we delved into the land/homesteading projects. I accept that our choices have been, in many cases, unconventional. And I see the humor in it. But it's lonely to feel like it's just the two of us sitting at computers by day and patching up donkeys at night. Which is why, yet again, Jenna Woginrich of Cold Antler Farm has been such a great discovery. Her recent article published in Mother Earth News sums it all up, makes us feel a little less crazy, and puts us in a category with a few others. If ever there was any doubt, yesterday proved that we've both got a terrible case of Barnheart.
Monday, January 25, 2010
RIP Eleanor (2008-2010)
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Sunday, January 17, 2010
This little discovery was very exciting and very rewarding (I'm not going to address the potential privacy concerns in this discussion, but instead focus on the coolness of this information). You can even see the RV parked along the southern fence line and the tractor just northwest of that.
How freakin' cool! My next step was to create a barn and house in Google Sketch-Up and then place that onto my Google Earth image so I can better visualize size and orientation. I made some headway yesterday, but had a hard time with placement. I'll get to that later and post updated pics. Anyway, that's my "technology is cool" rant. Thanks for bearing with me.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
A little bit later that morning, we headed out to the land to meet with a contractor to start getting estimates on how much it was going to cost to prep the building site. So, armed with every jacket we owned and multiple pairs of gloves/hats/long underwears, we headed east. We met with the contractor and discussed some figures. When they left, we did our usual tour of the place and headed down to the pond to enjoy the morning tranquility. When we got to the pond, I was quite surprised to see the top of the water glistening. There was ice on the pond, too.
I really thought a larger body like that wouldn't start to freeze after 12 hours below freezing, but I was wrong. There was about 1/2" - 3/4" layer. I was relegated to the shoreline because of my bulk, but Jenna was able to walk out a little bit (in the very shallow areas). It was a very unique experience.
We spent the next 20 minutes forgetting how cold we were and regressed to our inner 12 year old selves. We started throwing rocks and sticks, with each toss eliciting a "whoa" and "cool" and "did you see that?". Yes, we're simple people. We went back home to warm up and came back out later that day to actually be productive. At that point, the pond had mostly thawed. Overall, it was a pretty exciting day for a couple of native Texans.
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
It's a narrow strip of pasture, hand cleared, the grass hand-seeded, the animals now grazing and using something that was before useless. It didn't happen in a day, not even close. It's only here now because of what we did piece by piece, one small project at a time. An afternoon here or there, a hot morning between breakfast and afternoon chores at our current house. I looked down the strip of land, at the donkeys, and then on my other side were the cows, eating the same grass we planted, on the same land we cleared.
This whole thing, whatever it is or ends up being, can't be done at once - this is clear. And that used to frustrate me like nothing else has ever frustrated me. But now I see that some things have to be broken down, done in pieces, taken apart. And when you do that you get a million, tiny little victories. Pretty satisfying, if you ask me.