ChelsiThe changing color of the leaves is my cue to once again write a little something about the happenings of life, and life has certainly been happening.
Our summer agenda looked something like this: Garden. Projects. Ticks. Camping. Chores. Projects. Projects. Fires. Family. Friends. Projects. Fishing. Garden. Zucchini. Zucchini, Tomatoes. Tomatoes. Tomatoes. Zucchini. River. Fishing. Projects. Projects. More Tomatoes. Bee stings. Projects. Projects. Projects.
You may have noticed that “projects” appears most frequently and often successionally. This is because I am married to Michael and when a project (or five) is in the works, it dominates our household.
In sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, with or without projects.
As if I haven’t talked (or listened) about it enough this summer, I’ll start off by sharing Michael’s obsessions… I mean projects.
The first big project(s) of the season were the outbuildings- cleaning them up, organizing their contents, and installing windows and doors in the barn along with the addition of a new wall on one side.
These changes are always nostalgic for me. I think about how everything looked when Grandpa and Grandma lived here. Part of me wants things to always look that way, but I also feel proud about the upkeep and making it all useful again.
I know Grandpa would love to see these buildings in action, and Grandma would giggle at Hutch and Winnie’s participation in it all.
If you knew Grandma J, you knew she had the best giggle, especially around kids.
“Cleaning the woods” is a phrase we used to make fun of my dad about. I’m not sure if Dad said it first to describe his hobby of pulling out invasive or undesirable plants and trees or if we came up with this phrase as he talked about brush piles and his general tending of the woods.
Now, decades later, I find that we are doing the same “cleaning the woods” activities that Dad has always done. I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.
While I concern myself with invasive buckthorn or the bushes with “bad berries” (as Winnie correctly points them out) scattered amongst our black raspberries, gooseberries, walnut trees, and cottonwoods, Michael goes above and beyond with concern about overgrowth and undergrowth, mowed trails, and spaces that need “dirt work”.
At one point, he sprinkled clover seeds on a dirt path in the woods and then proceeded to check it’s growth on a daily basis. So, if you’re wondering how we keep busy, that is Exhibit A.
I prefer less arduous forms of “cleaning the woods” such as putting the goats to pasture, or more literally- to woods.
We sectioned out a chunk of forest next to our creek for our goaties to munch on buckthorn to their hearts’ content.
Since our goats are of the dwarf variety, they often need a little help from their friends (us). This is where my anniversary present from Michael, a Dewalt battery powered chainsaw, comes in handy to hack down the taller parts of a buckthorn stand.
While I have a flawless record with this tool, Michael did get one thorn imbedded in his scalp and another piece of wood to the eyeball… I should really show him how to handle power tools.
While the thorn to the scalp receded naturally, the wood to the eye was a Urgent Care visit in which the progress note detailed “full eyebrows and full lashes”. I agree Doc, he’s one handsome devil.
Anyway, the goats have been doing a fabulous job on the buckthorn removal. If they run out of munchies, we will know it by how they randomly appear outside the shed or next to my garden- a herd of sweet faces waiting for table service.
We have a solar powered electric netting fence which works well for goats with full tummies but is no match for a little hunger.
While the goats have been successful in taking out buckthorn, Michael has been successful in taking out skunks.
I’m not sure if anyone else has stared a skunk straight in the eyes this summer, but I’ve done it twice. The first time happened when I went to feed my cats in the dark of the night.
As I biked to the feed bowl thinking I was approaching our gray cat and our black cat, I leaned toward them with food in hand to find that that I was not at all looking at our black cat but instead, a skunk. The skunk and I scattered silmutaneously.
My second encounter with this skunk happened a week later when I leaned my head into the old chicken coop to grab a pail and there she was- inches away.
Why she didn’t spray me? I do not know. I stopped doing chores in darkness, and Michael started keeping his pellet gun available. When Michael met Skunk in the shed one evening, Skunk’s time was up, and our shed still smells of her.
One of Michael’s favorite features of “cleaning the woods” has been the use of Dad’s skidsteer. I’m not quite sure what understanding those two have but it seems that Dad leaves the skidsteer here, Michael uses it and routinely gets it stuck, sometimes in the same place over and over, and Dad comes to help unstick it.
At one point, they were doing repairs together. I’m unclear if these were routine repairs or Michael-instigated but either way, it seems like we are getting the good end of this deal.
Dad’s skidsteer and tractor have been key components for arguably Michael’s favorite project of the year- the bridge.
With the creek sidelining our property and deer hunting season approaching, Michael thought it would be the bee’s knees to have access across the creek.
He purchased a mobile home trailer, slapped some wooden planks across it, cleared some trail and trees near the chosen location, and plopped it on over with the use of a tractor pull, skidsteer push, my dad (thanks Dad for everything, always), and some chains. Voila! We have a bridge!
Surprisingly, the bridge project was unproblematic, except for Hutch. He got two bee stings during the installation process, and he’ll never let us forget it.
One little project was making our chickies a mobile coop. We tried making one last year that ended up not being so raccoon-proof. This one has been a success- electric netting fence around some pasture with a mini quonset shed atop a hay wagon with slatted floors.
The chickens are happy (except when Hutch tries to carry them around), and our egg breakfasts are the kickstart to our days.
While I’m lingering on the topic of projects, I must breeze through Michael’s current endeavour. I’m sure I will cover this in more detail post-deer season when Michael’s vision comes true and 4 to 5 deer carcasses hang inside this thing.
Michael is full time in on making a walk-in cooler out of SIPs (structurally insulated panels) and an AC unit.
My knowledge of this process is minimal. If you need every single detail, you can consult his group text thread titled “Deer Tour” or talk to my father. The former will be more concise. With the latter resource, you may want to grab a drink and plan to stay awhile; he doesn’t talk fast.
Apparently Michael is rubbing off on Hutch because when I ask Hutch, “What should I write about from this summer?” Hutch replies, “Deer season is coming soon. And then, picking up Easter eggs, don’t know when that will be.”
Now, my summer baby- the garden. As I swim in zucchini and tomatoes right now, I have almost no desire to discuss gardening. I’m burnt out from the idea of produce which is perhaps the sign of a good gardening year. And for me, that it was.
I am now a disciple of the Ruth Stout gardening method.
I started with a thick bed of hay and added more as any weeds popped through. I did not water once this year and weeding occurred minimally and none past June.
This way of gardening is the way for me. I hardly have the time to admire my garden, let alone tend to it. The harvest has been my busiest time, so if we don’t get any deer in our freezer, at least it will be full of tomatoes.
Our summer wasn’t all projects, skunks, and tomatoes. It was also very fun.
Our beloved farm cat had kittens- Smokey and Bear; they often got more love than they bargained for.
We had a camping weekend with Michael’s mom’s side of the family which is always the best no matter how many mosquitoes eat our face off.
Winnie left with one eye swollen shut (thanks to the bugs) but was happy nonetheless from meals around the campfire, celebrating her Tia’s birthday, and getting Gigi hugs and Grandpa Denny pushes on the swing.
Speaking of bugs, this spring/early summer was tick mania. Our mild winter was a likely contributor.
I quickly purchased guinea hen keets. They are known to gobble up ticks better than anything. We raised these tender heat lamp babies into full-feathered fowl.
Guinea hens are known to protect their properties. They often act as alarms to any trespasser and even protect other farm animals from predators.
We had a trusty guinea hen (Gwen) here before us and it took all summer for her to trust our presence. She rivaled the rooster with her volume. We’ve been without Gwen for a year now so I was excited for a guinea hen presence again.
With Gwen in mind, I expected these guinea hens to grow up, linger around, munch on ticks, and guard the premises.
When the little naked keets became larger and fully feathered, I let them loose and guess what happened?… They were never to be seen again!
That was only mildly dramatic. I did see them again one month later, in half the amount and in a matter of seconds as they flew from one cornfield to another. I saw them a second time on the gravel road, also within seconds of time.
Now, they have disappeared for over a month. I guess all guinea hens are not created equal. RIP to our boisterous and beloved Gwen.
In related news, I haven’t picked one tick off my kids since those guineas were released so while they are not what I imagined, I choose to believe they are still out here somewhere doing the lord’s work.
On the week of July 4th, we had our annual celebration with Michael’s dad’s side of the family.
This is another yearly highlight, and themed nonetheless. This year, the theme was “Camp Kahl”.
There were camp counselors, bracelets, t-shirts, a talent show, a meal song; the list goes on.
There was a celebration of life for Uncle David and a special joy in being all together for fun in his favorite place (the lake) as we celebrated him.
Winnie got out of this family event with both eyes open.
On July 25th, my second niece was born!
My sister-in-law Angela surprised us with a girl- our sweet Scarlett Summer.
Winnie definitely has both eyes open now as she loves to look at Scarlett- pictures, videos, IRL, everything. She’s obsessed with “my baby”; so am I.
Hutch is busy making gifts for Scarlett. The current gift is a bunch of wood screwed together. I don’t know what the gift is exactly, but he did decide to wash the wood in case she wants to chew on it.
While Scarlett’s birth day was an extraordinary day in our summer, our average days have been pretty nice too.
We are outside almost always, except for that month long stint when we installed new kitchen flooring. PSA: Click lock vinyl flooring is not as easy as it sounds, but we got it done and got back outside.
We played in the creek, threw rocks and sticks off the bridge, found time to be on the river, picked plenty of berries, put the treehouse to good use, and did a lot of fishing per Hutch’s request.
This morning, my 87 year old grandpa “Papa” is coming over to fish off the new bridge.
Hutch put his camo hat on and Winnie scattered to find a neon orange hat. When Winnie came back to the kitchen, I heard, “This is a good fashion hat.”
I was surprised to hear this new word- “fashion” as I’m not sure where she picked that one up. This household is not very fashion-forward, and I can’t remember the last time I even verbalized the word “fashion”.
I said, “What?” Again I heard, “This is a good fashion hat.”
Hutch to the rescue behind me clears up this mess by clarifying, “She said this is a good fishing hat!” Ahhhh.. this makes a lot more sense.
As we wait for Papa to go fishing, Hutch sets the timer for his arrival- one hour from now.
Hutch says, “Can I go with Papa all by myself?” I look at sweet Winnie with her fishing hat on and say, “I guess Winnie and I could try another spot.” Hutch replies, “Okay, and when a big trout eats your hook, you can find us and we’ll share another hook with you.”
The kids are off getting worms with Michael now. I drink my coffee in peace and see that the timer has ticked down to eight minutes. I suppose I should go now… it’s time to find my fishing hat.
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