It is like a time of anticipation and irresolution, these weeks between the fair and the start of high school. Time sort of hangs suspended between the seasons and can’t sort out whether it is one or the other. It still feels like summer, but there are hints of fall everywhere. Swallows are lining up on electric wires near the farms where they summered, collecting in large flocks for their migration to somewhere south of here. There are already very few robins, even though just a few weeks ago they were raising their second or third broods of the season and hunting the long lawn for night crawlers every dawn and dusk. Goldenrod is turning its signature color and staghorn sumac is just beginning to change its drab green for the cardinal red it sports in autumn. Still it is warm and sunny and the days are not too awful short just yet.

I started a few herb plants today. I have a number of pots of top onions growing well and a couple of chives started from seeds from my own plants. Today I added rhubarb from seeds from Grandpa Lachmayer’s strain and some lemon balm. All of mine died out when we moved up here and I miss its fresh lemony flavor in ice water, omelets and salads. I also planted some winter lettuce and mesclun greens in containers by the back door.

We took a drive over to Sharon Springs this afternoon to pick up some garlic from the garlic lady and some ginger gold apples from Sunnycrest. We are thinking of planting a bit of garlic this fall as we use a lot and like it fresh.

There is a lot of very badly drought-stressed corn around the county and many farms are already chopping for silage. Ours isn’t too hot either and we are going to have the crop insurance adjuster take a look at it as soon as we can. I expect that buying forage will be a real challenge this winter.

What a morning the milking crew had. I was chatting on the phone with my baby brother this morning when they came in with long, cranky faces and milled around waiting to tell me all about it. Seems they went out early in hopes of getting a few extra hours of Sunday down time today, but found the pump that moves the milk into the bulk tank from the pipeline broken down. The boss went to the truck stop for fuses and they fiddled with it until they got it going at 8:00 AM, and were finally able to start milking. Boy am I ever glad it was my morning off and I didn’t know a thing about it until breakfast time. Hope it holds together tonight so we can milk!

Prayers and good thoughts to all those who may be in the path of Hurricane Katrina. Looks like a real monster.
©Northview Diary 2005

Whitewash day-it's nobody's favorite. First we have to take everything out of the barn, and I do mean everything, from shovels and pitch forks to the calendar and the radio. We do most of that the day before the whitewash guys come. Then on the actual morning we get up extra-early, do the milking and chores and take out all the stuff we use every day. It is amazing how many cow collars, wrenches and bottles of fly spray can accumulate in one barn.

Next comes covering the things that can't be moved, but shouldn't be whitewashed. We put little sandwich bags on every single milk line inlet and pulsator mount on the pipeline, and on all the thermostats and fasten them with rubberbands. Big trash bags and feed bags cover all the electrical motors. There are a lot of them, expecially in the summer, when all the big fans are in use. We cover all the blackboards and cork boards where we keep track of cow information too.We use canvas for things like the vaccuum pump that are too big to cover with bags. It is a fussy, messy job.

When everything is removed or covered, we get to go to the house for breakfast, while we wait for the whitewash men to do their job. They bring in a huge truck that is equiped to supply hoses with lots of compressed air to blow down a year's accumulation of cobwebs and dust and then to spray on the whitewash like paint. It took them over two hours today.

We wait a while after they are finished to let the whitewash dry a little. This is pretty futile, but the worst part of the job is next and we want to put it off as long as we can. However, eventually, we have to go back to the barn to bring everthing we took out back in and to uncover everything we covered. This is a really messy job. Everyone ends up with whitewash all over their hair, skin and clothes. It is very drying and feels terrible. We always seem to find something we forgot to cover that is now sprayed a stunning white. This year it was the clock, which fortunately was easy to clean. We replace all the lightbulbs too. They are pretty grubby by the end of the summer and aren't really worth saving. Then we have to scrape every single walkway and stall to get rid of the flakes of whitewash that rain down all over, as the cows are afraid of anything new and strange. We fill the mangers with hay and grain so they won't see or smell whitewash there and hope for the best when it's time to bring them in. Some years they are afraid of the blank, white newness and won't come in, and then run all over when they do, instead of going to their stalls.

Eventually it is done, and the guys head out to mow and chop hay. I come in for a nice cup of coffee that I feel I really earned and wait for evening milking time. The barn looks nice and the milk inspector should be happy for a while too.
I sure am glad we only do this once a year.

Much excitement in the days since the fair. We have been trying to catch our two elderly sheep all summer, with the intent of shearing off a couple of years of scraggly, burdock-filled wool. We could have caught them with the dogs, but it has been so hot, and they are so old, that we didn't want to stress them that way. They got so wily that you couldn't even lay a hand on either of them. The impasse continued until the boss began to scratch them behind the ears every day when he went out to feed Junie and Bayberry their grain. The sheep were eager to steal a little and so they tolerated his touch. Night before last Alan took the grain out to the heifers and just grabbed a passing sheep. We haltered both of them and the others did the milking while I got out the scissors. Yes, that's right, scissors. It took two hours of bending over cranky woolies, carefully separating wool from tender sheep hide before they were semi, sort-of, halfway sheared. Freckles, the old white ewe, loved it and stood like a statue. BS, whose name means just what you might think that it would, fought and struggled the whole time. When we turned them loose, they demonstrated the high intelligence level of the average sheep, by not recognizing each other and fighting like fools until they started bleating and knew each other's voices. Then they trotted off, happier and cooler by far.

Next came the hornets. Every time we moved the horse trailer this summer, there have been clouds of them whirring around trying to sting everyone. We looked for nests on the ground under it, but just couldn't find any. Still the nasty insects were there every time we went near the trailer. The boss found out why yesterday when he put his hand under the hitch to pick up the safety chain. The nest was suspended under the hitch. He was badly stung.

Then while my good friend and I were getting the bookkeeping caught up and enjoying homemade soup and good fellowship, the guys went over to the auction and bought two lovely little bunnies, a white one for Becky and a red satin for Alan. When Alan was out by the coop petting his bunny a veritable cloud of yellow jackets swirled out of the ground stinging him and the poor bunny horribly. She ran under the chicken coop where we can't to get her, and he ran for the house. It was a sad time all around. I hope we can catch her soon. Grandpa has a Have-a-Heart humane trap we are going to borrow and hope that she will go inside.

Get of Ocean-View Extra Special-ET 

Finally made it over to the fair last night, despite the lack of a car. The new barn is really quite attractive and if there are a few traffic problems, I think they will be sorted out over time. I really liked what Liz and Becky did with the decorations; very professional.

The kids did well in the show ring too, although they were disappointed by the big cows. Mandy only managed a third place and Cincinnatti came in second. Everyone thinks that Mandy was held back by her youthfulness and the fact that she is growing very fast and freshened way back in January. I believe she will mature to do much better. Old Dixie was that way. Nice enough as a young animal, but improving every year as she grew older. I wish I had a decent picture of her when she was 7 or 8. Ralph and I were going to get her pictured by a professional for Liz for Christmas but we didn't get it done and then she died. I took a lot of pics last night with a disposable camera in hopes of getting one or two worth the trouble.

The young stock really showed their mettle, with Junie winning Senior Yearling, Lemonade getting the blue in the Senior Calf class and Foolish coming in second Junior Heifer Calf against some impressive competition. I was quite proud of them. The kids also won the Get of Sire class with a get of Ocean-View Extra Special-ET, including Junie, Lemonade and Bubbles. Alan's pair, Bayberry and Bubbles were second in the Produce of Dam. Their mother, Balsam won Junior Heifer back in her show days at Altamont, so it was a case of the apple answering the pull of gravity there. Sedona, Bubbles, and Bayberry also won ribbons in their individual classes and the kids were second in Young Exhibitors Bred and Owned Herd.

Now I am ready for the fair to be over. The kids are tired and cranky and it is hard to get any work done with everybody either so pooped they can't find their shoes or over at the fairgrounds every day. Liz starts college Monday too. I can't imagine how she is going to manage that.

Water Garden 

I miss my boy. Oh, I miss his sister too, but I have gotten used to her being away at college, traveling out west and flying on planes and all so it is easier. However, he and I spend a lot of each day in engaging conversation. Sometimes I just tune him out when he gets babbling on and on about tractors or cars and such, but nights after work we always share a few minutes out by the garden pond just chatting about the day. I was out there alone tonight and felt deprived.

I miss his help too. He can always be counted on to light the fire that I lay in the woodstove each day. I put the papers and wood out sometime in the forenoon, but it doesn't really need to be lit until evening chore time, when hot water will soon be needed for showers. Now that he is over at the fair with his big sister, it is just another job I have to do myself. Not a big one, certainly, but time consuming just the same. The field work is taking longer without his able tractor work too. He usually does a good part of the chopping, baling, feeding and unloading of hay. With him gone, his dad has to do it all alone and then come in and milk Liz's string of cows both milkings too. We are starting early and finishing late these days.

Feeding calves just takes forever. When everyone is here, one person scrapes up and throws down hay, two feed the milk calves, while the boss milks the bucket cows and sets up the pipeline washer. At most it usually takes about twenty minutes. With just the two of us and Becky it takes close to an hour before all the critters are fed and things are cleaned up. I will be glad when the fair is over for sure.

Alan got his picture in the Troy Record today, or at least the reporter said that it would be there. He was sleeping on a show box and Hootie, the tiny little Jersey baby, and Foolish, the youngest Holstein, put their heads on him and slept too. It was probably pretty cute. However, we haven't been able to get a copy of the paper so I guess we won't be seeing it. A man from Excaliber Sires stopped by the string at the fair today and admired the cows and went to his car to bring the kids back a stud book, which was pretty encouraging. It is nice when someone who knows what they are looking at likes your stock.
Text and photos © Northview Dairy 2005

We had rain last night! A whole inch! Of course, the horses were out and there was thunder so midnight saw most of the family up unplugging computers or running for the house with eager horses in tow. You don't have to ask them twice to come inside if it is stormy. They just hate the lightning. Of course, everybody was sleepy and cranky today, which makes taking the first stuff over to the fair extra challenging.

The boss went over to Holloways for some straw this morning. They make real nice stuff over there; big, heavy, bales of short chopped barley straw that fluffs up just wonderfully under the show cows and keeps them nice and clean. We try to buy some every winter for the milk cows too. They just love it and lie down as soon as their stalls are bedded. Sometimes you can tell in the morning that some of them never got up all night, because they were so comfy.

I don't have much time today, because I have been requested to go over to the fairgrounds and take a look at the new cow barn there. The kids want me to offer suggestions on how they can fit the hay and straw into their area and get the signs, flowers, and decorations up. In a way I would rather stay home, but then again, it is fun to be part of all the excitement.

This old house 

Hot and getting hotter. Text and photos © Northview Dairy
It is just too darned hot and dry here in the valley. "Maybe" clouds drift smugly across the brassy blue of the August sky lining up in sorrowful rows. They promise rain, but don't deliver. Thunderheads build and loom and then subside into puffy cumulous. They are merely stormcloud wannabes.

We are going to have to start watering 16 young heifers that are spending the summer out on the hill behind the house. Normally the creek there flows year round. Sometimes it roars down the hill in vigorous spate. Sometimes it meanders by, languorously slipping between its rocky banks. This summer it is reduced to a few stagnant puddles languishing in the shadier corners of the woods. The young stock still look fine, but it would be better for them to have a steady source of cool, clean water, so we will set out hoses tomorrow. We haven't used the watering trough out there in years, but it is still functional enough anyhow.

I planted a yellow lilac bush yesterday and a few irises today. It is incredible how dry and hard the ground is. A hole dug to the depth of the shovel blade uncovered no moisture at all, just Sahara-dry, hard, clay and sand. I filled the hole with water and had to wait half an hour for it to dissipate. We may get a few showers tonight due to a cold front passing through. I sure am hoping. Somehow no matter how disastrous the weather turns out to be we always seem to muddle through somehow. I am sure we will this year too.

Locust Tree 

Way Back

The boy and I stayed home today while everyone else went to Empire Farm Days. Someone needs to keep an eye on things around here and I don't really mind. It's a long drive and too much walking up there anyhow.

Darned chickens have taken up scratching and scrabbling among my zinnias and tomatoes, blast 'em. Thus when I went out to the garden the other day, highly trained, but somewhat lazy, border collie at heel, I decided to use the chicken removal tools available to me. So to speak.

"Gael, walk up," I told her. She looked at me like I had surely lost whatever grey matter I might have left. She knows darned well that dogs are scolded for chasing chickens around here. Traipsing through the zinnias is frowned upon as well.
"Walk up," I repeated .

With a sigh of resignation and much looking over her fat little black shoulder, she complied, albeit grudgingly. She got the job done too. It was amazing to watch a dog, who works 3/4 ton cows as a matter of routine, finesse those pesky birds. With barely a twitch to one side or the other, she pushed them through the weeds under the old apple tree and out away from the buildings. She was sure slick. With a final, "That'll do," and a smug grin I headed back to the house, zinnias satisfactorily chickenless. The whole affair was painfree and a nice excuse to work a dog.

Of course today they were back. Chickens may be birdbrains, but they don't give up easily. I am pretty clever though so this time I sent both gentle little Gael and tough guy, Mike, on zinnia patrol. It's a good thing that the dogs all have real good recall and know what, "Leave it," means, especially when it is screamed real loud over the squawking of a frantic rooster. Chickens seem to resent being picked up in the mouth of a big hairy dog and CARRIED out of the garden. I just don't understand it. It seems like a very effective means of moving them and saves wear and tear on their hot little feet. However, guess Mike will have to stick to cows and leave chicken duty to his baby sister. Chickens just look better with their feathers left on.

North Porch 

Sunday, the best day of the week. Each week I take this one morning off from milking the cows and spend a few hours puttering contentedly. Didn't really do much this AM, just watered the beefers and took note that the Belgian Blue is pushing the poor little shorthorn steer back and not letting him eat much. Have to put him in his own pen this week. We will probably be spending a lot of time moving calves and heifers around, as we need to get Lemonade out of the sawdust shed pen with Argentina and get her fitted up for the fair. She will be the middle animal in Liz's "get of sire" class with Junie and Bubbles on both ends. We will put Argie out on the hill with the big heifers and put five or six weanling "water calves" out in their pen. Feeding so many calves with buckets is a time consuming chore that no one enjoys and we will all be glad to do the job with a hose from now on.

We had some fun this spring when we set up the water garden and put a couple of guppies in with the ten or so great big goldfish that live there. Imagine my amazement this morning when I saw both the original pair, plus at least one more fighting over a piece of floating goldfish food. They sure are hardy little fish. Now I have to figure out how to get them back out this fall when we take the pond down for the winter. The same goes for innumerable baby goldfish that have hatched out there. Guess I need a real fine meshed net.

I will miss the tranquility and peace there by the pond when the snow flies. The fountain drowns out the sound of the interstate nearby and calls to an amazing array of birds and frogs. There are three of the latter living there now, a big green frog, a small one and a pretty little leopard as well. It is great fun to feed Big Frog the fat, green katydids that are chewing their way through the daylilies this year. As large as he, is he has quite a time swallowing them. Birds have become so tame that I can sit in my red Peck's Lake chair and they still come to the feeders right by my head to squabble over the sunflower seeds. The chickadees get very demanding if I don't fill the feeders fast enough to suit them.


Three nice loads of hay yesterday. It is good to see the mow filling up.

Twilight at Northview 

First Post Ever

The first day in this tale of a small family farm. ©Northview Dairy Farm
After weeks of miserable heat and humidity it was wonderful to feel the cool today. It was almost as crisp as a fall morning when I came downstairs at daybreak. This old house catches every light and breeze that summer days have to offer, from dawn leaping pink and orange down the upstairs hallway and spotlighting the geraniums on the front steps, to the golden glow of firefly twilight. They sure knew how to build houses all those decades ago. There isn't a single window that doesn't frame something worth looking at. Sometimes I just rest my hand on the polished oak woodwork and feel the years reaching back to the folks who lived here first.

A catbird likes to sing in the cedars flanking the front porch. If the double door, with its intricate stained glass windows, is open he can use the whole two stories of the front hall as an amplifier for his robin/sparrow/goldfinch songs. He copies the cow girl's calling-the-horses whistle too. Catbird echoes in the greylight.
Hummers visit the old vinegar bottle feeder on the front porch then whirr off to guzzle canna nectar by the garden pond. Then they buzz through the last of the bee balm and hit the red feeder in the backyard. They have to start early and run late to keep their little engines fueled. Red flowers seem to bloom in ragged succession all summer keeping them well fed and me entertained watching them.

The guys are baling like crazy now that it is not so humid. The boy was almost overcome by the heat the other day and we had to let up on him a little. He is tough, but he can't quite keep up with the old man. He just came in for a cooler full of ice water and to get someone to watch the elevator while he throws off another load of bales. They have already chopped two loads of green grass for the cows and unloaded one wagon of first cutting.

We are still heating water for the house with the outdoor woodstove. Finding things to burn and keeping it going are among my favorite jobs. When I took Nick up to his run before milking this morning the faint tang of woodsmoke on the breeze was another reminder that fall will be upon us soon.

Even though the sun is still up until eight thirty, the short days are cutting into the amount of work we can get done each day. By the time we are through milking in the evening, there is little choice but to go indoors for dinner. It is just too dangerous to try to do field work in the dark.

Well, there is another load of hay pulled up to the mow elevator, so I guess I should go lend a hand