Stubborn Cows

Since the boss is off to the auction, and the cows refused to come down to the barn before sunup, I had to go get them. Normally.....normally.....they come pretty well when you call them or whistle for them.





Not today.

I have video proof of their reluctance. You can watch Moon shake her head, NO, when I call her. 





And Marv cavort away all silly and boyish when he hears his name.

And if you were here with me, you could have seen Bama poke, and plod, and plod and poke, coming down last and late and then take her sweet time eating her hay.

Stubborn cows!

He's Back

O' Dark-Thirty in the morning. The boss is off to McFadden's auction today, so it's early chores for the cheap help. It's a fine morning for it, just the same, out here in the owl light of the almost-night.

Mr. Blue is crowing down in the old heifer barn, his deep voice plummy as an English butler and just as authoritative. I walk Daisy to her favorite location and glance up at the heifer hill, wondering if the cows will come down before the boss leaves or if I am going to have to milk them later.

I don't mind Bama. She is a gentle old soul and used to stand in my line anyhow. I have milked her since she had her first calf. 

It's Moon that daunts me, with her shoulders nearly as high as my head, and her feet that like to come my way....and the pipeline where she stands is way too high for me to reach. I dread milking her, although I have done it and will if I have to. Or maybe I can get Jade to do it for me......she doesn't usually kick him.

And as I stand there with my silly little dog, looking over the hillside in the hour before the dawn, there he is, battle flags flying, sword outflung, ready to conquer the season and bring along his army of cold.

Orion. 

Yep, it's fall.

You Asked for It

And yes, she is too little to actually play with these,
but this was set up for the photo.....and she really likes them!

Fun with Fowl

Ooh, I has fashion socks! Hey, Mom!

Or, yeah, I'm cheap date. Went out after chores to pick the blight-stricken tomatoes for the birds. No sense letting them rot...and the chickens are not fussy. 

Although I left most of the bucket for Liz to take down to the big layers I stopped and fed a few to the baby guineas, Laura the hen, the tiny white turkey poult and the gorgeous, incredible, really, really pretty slate grey Americauna/cochin cross that one of the hens hatched this summer.

First I let the silly things out in their yard, which is a hoot in itself. Guineas are like little kids, sure they are missing something, and they boiled out that door like steam out of a kettle.

Then I rolled little red tomatoes down the roof wire, which has spaces large enough to admit a nice one, and waited until they found the right spot to fall through.

Like ducks on a June bug, the birds were on them, fighting as if I was feeding them exotic truffles and there was never going to be another one.

Each new mater caused them to abandon the one before. The yard was littered with red globes, but all eleven were squabbling over the same one every time.

I loved it.

Yep, cheap date. 

You Gotta Read This

Long time blog friend Alphecca shared this outrageous overreach of government power this morning. Seems like the feds want you to get a permit before you click that selfie in the wilderness.

I left a comment....for what it's worth...You can too, if you feel so moved. Here is another link Jeff shared with some clarification of the potential ramifications of this one. First Amendment anyone?

Fog

Goldfinch gleaning the rudbeckia

I am thankful for it. Each clear, cold evening threatens frost, but mornings are shrouded like unused furniture in a forgotten tower room, blanketed in insulating moisture, saving plants and crops.

At predawn Daisy-walking time, the tame turkeys in their turkey tractor crouch low and slink along like their wild cousins, and chuckle and chortle softly to themselves.

New chickies the kids got the other day

Come sunup they will gobble and purr quite happily, but  they are nervous of things that go bump in the night. With the faint odor of skunk that floats on the breeze I don't think I blame them. 

When Ren barks they call right back at her, which makes for a silly symphony out there on the back lawn.

Yesterday was another soup day, Italian Sausage again. The tomatoes are getting ahead of me and soup makes a fine swan song for them, plus making good use of the odds and ends of beans and squash still being produced as long as frost holds off. I processed a couple of bags of sauce for the freezer too.

The boss made hay, great walloping big bales of second cutting, with more to go today if all goes well. Now he just has to sell it.

If I get the Farm Side finished and sent and all goes well, we may go pick some corn that one of our friends has offered. Anything in the freezer for winter is welcome!

Oh, Bull

A couple of weeks ago we turned Bruce, Broadway's last year's bull calf, in with the four heifers. He has always been very quiet.

Frankly, I am not crazy about the quiet ones...bulls that is....because you tend to get complacent around them, and then bad things happen.

Bruce has been a little off the past week so the boss went into the pen to doctor on him, got it done, and turned to leave. The little bull instantly attacked him, drove right into him with his head and nearly put him on the ground.

I was hobbling across the  barnyard in my usual lame-footed gait and saw it all.

The boss hollered, "Bring me a stick!", but by the time I got there, the bull had gone after him again, and he had grabbed him by the head, turned him into the gate and got him to stop.

Yowsa! He is just a little bitty bull. He has always been very calm and timid. But wow!

Next time we handle him he is going to get a ring in his nose if I have any say about it.

Of course, his behviour is pretty understandable. A bull is a bull is a bull. I have been violently attacked by day-old calves when they feel threatened or frightened. And getting medicine is probably scary. 

But the barnyard rules have changed now. No going across without a stick when the young stock are out of the pen. And not the plastic water pipe we usually use to deter violent stock either. Noisy, but totally harmless. Nope, this requires a real stick!

Somebody's Watching the Calendar

I asked Alan to hold my camera and he asked me to smile

Normally the equinox passes without much involvement from the weather. The sky does not keep a calendar.

However, yesterday, the last day of summer, was gloriously summery. Even late in the evening when the sun was nearly gone from the sky, the air was balmy and soft, almost liquid with sweet, gentle warmth. A really nice day for Sundae on the Farm and a nice day for birding and such. Alan sat with me on the porch for a while, just talking and watching the catbirds and phoebes fly by. 

Made for a sweetly poignant end to summer. 

Then this morning we awoke to cold, scudding clouds, and bristly winds, raking the seed heads of the done-for-the-year rudbeckia, and tossing the cottonwood like a champ. The sky was lit from before dawn until the sun was high with the weirdest light you could imagine.

It was a nearly perfect segue from summer to fall, with no interval at all in between.

The late blight, which has decimated nearly everyone's tomatoes, has finally come herre. I can't complain, as we have picked a lot of tomatoes, but I hate to see the end of the harvest. Homemade sauce is such an asset in the winter. I season it when I make it, with fresh herbs off our plants, which I chop right up in the food processor with the tomatoes. Then when we add it to spaghetti sauce or soup in the winter, there is a taste of summer in every bite.

And with the cold and wild, wet wind comes inertia. I need to do stuff.

I don't want to.

Sunday Stills....Orange

Orange milk mustache

Orange bull

Orange dog, looking for trouble

Orange wheelbarrows for picking pumpkins

Orange pumpkins

Orange Camaro, orange skid steer, young man creating orange milk mustache

Orange flowers

Orange center

Orange squash

For more Sunday Stills.....

Road Trip....Bellinger's Orchard

Alan took me to visit our favorite orchard this morning, and then for a little drive around the countryside.

Apples

Lots of fun,tasty apples, cider donuts, it was great. Alas there are no photos of the donuts, because we ate them. If you go to Sundae on the Farm, stop by on your way....... 

More apples

The kind we bought

Maple products

Palatine Cheese, made by some other good friends of ours

Montgomery County Sundae on the Farm

Will take place tomorrow at the Dygert Farm 243 Dygert Road, Palatine Bridge NY.

It starts at noon and will run until 4 PM with wagon rides, face painting, a farmer's market, live animal exhibits, tours of the milking parlor, the giant free ice cream sundae (while supplies last....which is usually as long as they need to) and much, much more.

Don't miss it! 

Directions: To reach the event from the west head east at the intersection of St Hwy 80 & St Hwy 5, for .5 miles, then turn left on Dygert Rd. From the east, at the intersection of St Hwy 10 & St Hwy 5 head west 2 miles, and then turn right on Dygert Rd.

Magic 8-Ball Tomato

When she was little we called her "Miss B". She picked out and purchased the seeds for the German Orange Heirloom tomatoes and helped me plant the seeds last spring.

When I opened this one for a sandwich I saw that it was calling her name.

A Fingernail Moon, Many Goose Kind of Morning

The driveway cottonwood sings his death song and dances his last dance. Hear him rushing and rustling, all urgent in the chilly wind. He bears cold truth on singing shoulders and renders unto autumn what it earns.

Oh, there are tomatoes grinning gold and red all on the ground. And beans blushing and squashes swelling.

And a thousand blazing blackbirds sit, creaking, in the honey locust.

But don't misremember cottonwood song. He sings of things impending.

On hot summer thunderstorm days he sings of fear of lightning.

And beats a racing leafy counterpoint to the rumbling and the flashing.

Like the heartbeat of the weather.

Watch his top to gauge the wind, its speed, direction, 

The depth of its intent.

But now, alas, he is letting go of green and bringing on the long dark cold.

I will close my ears and listen only to the Carolina Wren. Bright soldier of good cheer, he is singing on the shady porch, lighting the air like a flying candle.

Slow down, old autumn, and linger warm and cozy. Keep as close as burdocks to your sister spring and bring her this way quickly....

Thank you, that is all.

***Listen and you can hear the geese in the background under the din of the assorted blackbirds

Birthday Week

Happy Birthday, Mom, hope you have a fantastic day.

Love you!

Happy Birthday Gramps

Yeah, and one of your little grandbabies shares your day, so a big happy birthday to her too.


Hope you catch some Zzzzzs on your special day, as I know you are tired from cleaning pens and splitting firewood yesterday.

Many Happy returns....love you.....