The Turn of the Year
For everyone, the annual calendar tells them of the daily passage of time. We are all familiar with the swing of the seasons, the waxing and waning day length.
On a farm, additional events occur during the turn of the year and the swing of the seasons.
Those fortunate enough to have maple trees begin to tap the trees when the day time temps are in the 40s and the night time temps in the 20s. Sap taken straight out of the bucket is an invigorating drink, and boiling sap gives a special scent to the air. It seems like a strange time of year to be getting out the canning jars, but slowly the pints and quarts of syrup pile up until the cupboard is full. Visiting friends and family are always glad to get in on the harvest.
Spring is the time of birthing of animals; new life that often precedes the greening of the trees. For those with cattle, goats, or sheep, this frequently means starting to milk, with all the attendant tasks. Increasing day length is a blessing, as chores can be done during the day, and the barn is warmer. Hay bales are anxiously counted, and the remaining pile is measured against the possibility of late snows.
Those who start seeds have little seedlings popping up, and have a need to nurture the little plants as they anticipate warming of the garden soil, preparation of the beds, and setting out the young plants. It is the time to pull out seeds that were saved, and calculate what goes where. The fortunate and prepared have ordered what other seeds they need, and drawn up their planting diagrams during the quiet of the winter. Shrubs and trees that were ordered are eagerly anticipated, and set out when they arrive. Spring bulbs break through and start to bloom. Bees take their first flights, and those fortunate enough to have hives begin the spring tasks of tending the bees.
As the snow goes away and grass starts to grow, it is time to walk fence. Always holes are discovered- from deer and moose breaking through, from downed trees or broken fence posts. It is a race to keep ahead of the cattle, as they seek out the tender new grass. They prove the adage that, for them, 'the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence'.
Hens and other poultry lay more eggs, and more fertile eggs. Those who can go broody gather clutches and begin to set. Easter comes, the Christian makeover of more ancient celebrations of spring and new life. Fruit trees and grapevines need pruning. Perennials peek through the soil and are welcomed back.
As the weather gets warmer, impatient house holders set wide the doors and windows. The energy of spring cleaning begins to take over.
Equipment is overhauled, and the frenzy of planting takes over. The outdoors becomes more of a living space. Chairs are set out in the garden, but seldom used. Plants indoors all winter demand to come out of the greenhouse onto the lawn. Hens fly out of the hen yard, and the garden needs protection.
As the garden grows, water becomes an issue. You need just enough, not too little, not too much. Weeds vs mulch vs cultivation becomes the new tug of war. Peas need to be staked. Plants waiting for weather warm enough to be set out form a lengthening queue at the garden gate. Calculations are reviewed to ensure that corn is started early enough. Late frosts may demand emergency cover for tender plants. And always, the cows crowd around, testing the fence.
Finally planting is done, milking has settled down to a routine, cheese making begins, and plants are beginning to grow rapidly. Depending on how many cattle are out on field, the pastures may be growing grass faster than they can eat it. The bull courts his ladies to ensure next years' calves are started.
Suddenly- it is time to think about getting in new hay. You fight the weather, job schedules, and time in general in order to stack hay bales in a real-life version of the computer game Tetris. The cows think this is great fun, and do their best to turn the scene to one of total chaos. Days are so busy that calves may get a break out on field with their moms if there is no time to milk.
Aah- finished getting in the hay sometime in July- and winter grains look to be getting ready for harvest. Meanwhile, of course, peas, lettuce, and broccoli have been blessing the table. To can or not to can- to freeze or not to freeze- that is the question.
For me, cheese making is an ongoing project.The milk fridge fills with gallons. I come in and empty it every 2-3 days to make a wheel of cheese, which then is salted, and goes down to the cellar (the 'cheese cave') to age.
Midsummer is technically past, but the heat of the year is yet to come. For some, this is the season of late planting. For me, it is the season of trying to keep up with the drama that is the garden. Pesto making. Garlic scapes. New potatoes. Weeding, mulching, watering if necessary. Watching the spring grains beginning to head out. Keeping the cows where they belong. Trying to control the depredations of rodents, turkeys, and other unidentified nocturnal marauders. Enjoying the superb display of summer storms. Standing in the midst of this land that is my love, and feeling the energy flow up and into me, and out again in thanksgiving and praise of the Creator.
The cattle don't take too many breaks, and so neither do I. I walk the fences again. The section running by the swamp verge can be a nice dry cakewalk, or, conversely, a wade through a temporary bog if it has been raining heavily. I check the apple trees on the way by.
On 'slow' years, I get a chance to work with the perennials beds and the flower beds. It's been 3-4 years since I had a 'slow' year- grain growing takes up that slack time. But since they *are* perennials, they come back and work within their own space, according to their own agendas.
For me, spring grains are usually mature sometime in August. The years I have done field peas and flax, they came ready somewhat earlier. Harvest strategy varies, depending on the amount to be brought in and how tall it grew. But for me it is always a miracle to see the grain in the heads, and know it is a food source that goes back as far as our recorded history. We have to get the sheaves out of the field, protected from rain and rodents, and then deal with drying, threshing, winnowing, and storage.
Apple harvest starts with the earliest in August, and the latest in October to November. I love the winy taste of the juice. It is an enlivening food. The questions; To press, or not to press? To sauce, or not to sauce? My husband (the hunter) is always anxious to know how heavy the harvest will be and if it will attract the deer. It certainly attracts the cows. They are fiends for apples.
The garden continues to gift us with its bounty; garlic, turnips, beans, corn, squash, tomatoes, peppers, herbs, the occasional melon maturing as if by accident. Berries. Grapes. Carrots. More potatoes. Cabbage for sauerkraut and Kim Chee. The kitchen porch becomes a holding area for vegetables. Food processing strategies multiply, and compete with cheese making.
And the cows continue to walk about, eating as they go. Summer wind storms knock down trees to open new holes in the fence, and the cows appear in the yard, or on the road. Off I go again to fix fence. It's such a great excuse for a walk, and more apples.
It is autumn, time of the harvest moon and the first frost. The tropical plants make their annual migration into the greenhouse. The last herbs are harvested for seed. I dig valerian root. Dried beans and soybeans, field corn, winter squash, the last carrots, and potatoes.Another round of processing for the dried beans and corn. Now the porch becomes problematic for tender vegetable storage. Sheets go out into the garden to cover ripening tomatoes and peppers. I make salsa, and feel myself starting to bid farewell to the summer garden.
The day length rapidly shortens. I start to have to go to work or come home in twilight, , the milk supply dwindles, and I cut back to milking once a day. The calves are big, and while still taking milk, are well-started on hay and grain. supply and demand work well with my own dwindling energy supply.
You can see why, since primordial times, fall festivals have been so important. They celebrate the gifts of summer, and invoke the energy of the stored food and the warmth of the hearth to help us through the cold and dark of the winter. Hunters feel the energy of the deers' rut, and make preparations for the hunt. Many cultures use this time, so rich in the energy of transition, to remember the dead. It is a gathering in of those good energies so that the, unseen yet nonetheless still remembered, loved ones not be left out in the cold.
In the crisp fall air, the stars in the night sky are especially bright, and the fall and winter constellations come wheeling up in the turn of the season. I love the grouping of Orion, Taurus, and Canis Major. The hunter (whom I think of also as the herdsman), the bull, and the dog. As I walk afield in the night with my dog to check the herd, we are all here below, as they are above. They are good company.
The cows start to eat hay. I count, and count again, adjusting the herd and the hay as necessary to make a good fit. There comes a day when I decide to have done with milking for the year. The calves are let out for the last time, and join the herd. Everyone is happy, and the families are complete. From this point on, through the winter, I only have to feed out hay, occasional grain, see to winter shelter if the weather is too harsh, make sure the brook stays open for water, and wait for spring's new beginning.
Indoors, it comes to be time for the wood stove and winter's strategies for heat management. Soon enough comes the solstice, and the winter holidays, which again invoke the warmth of human loving and giving.
I go through my winter spurt of 'indoor' energy- sometimes weaving cloth, sometimes (as this year) writing- or, as it were, weaving words- and trying to stay active enough not to put on too much winter weight. We increasingly delight in winter food- chile, stews, soup, rolls- but continue to crave greens and the stores of vegetables put by earlier.
And -as now, February 5th, 2012, there is time enough to rest and reminisce, balance activity with thought and the quiet learning that comes in the aftermath of an epic struggle.
From my blog;
It is now 1/24/12. This is the quiet time of my year, with the cows out on field with their calves, slowly self-weaning as the moms get ready to calve- hopefully not til March or April.
My interaction with them is the daily feeding. As calving time gets closer I will be doing frequent checks. I call them ‘baby bed check’, and as we get close, they can be every 2-4 hours,through the night depending on the weather.
On some years, they calve when the grass is already green, and I have to look for them where they choose to bed in the woodland or on the verge of the swamp where the early grass grows. Other years the snow is still on the field and they stay closer to the barn.
People come over here and look at me funny, when they see some of the things that I do. I've been told this is too much work. Ya gotta love em, but, honestly, don't they understand how much fun this is? it's life, fully engaged, the best of times. Not 'virtual reality', but the real thing.
On a farm, additional events occur during the turn of the year and the swing of the seasons.
Those fortunate enough to have maple trees begin to tap the trees when the day time temps are in the 40s and the night time temps in the 20s. Sap taken straight out of the bucket is an invigorating drink, and boiling sap gives a special scent to the air. It seems like a strange time of year to be getting out the canning jars, but slowly the pints and quarts of syrup pile up until the cupboard is full. Visiting friends and family are always glad to get in on the harvest.
Spring is the time of birthing of animals; new life that often precedes the greening of the trees. For those with cattle, goats, or sheep, this frequently means starting to milk, with all the attendant tasks. Increasing day length is a blessing, as chores can be done during the day, and the barn is warmer. Hay bales are anxiously counted, and the remaining pile is measured against the possibility of late snows.
Those who start seeds have little seedlings popping up, and have a need to nurture the little plants as they anticipate warming of the garden soil, preparation of the beds, and setting out the young plants. It is the time to pull out seeds that were saved, and calculate what goes where. The fortunate and prepared have ordered what other seeds they need, and drawn up their planting diagrams during the quiet of the winter. Shrubs and trees that were ordered are eagerly anticipated, and set out when they arrive. Spring bulbs break through and start to bloom. Bees take their first flights, and those fortunate enough to have hives begin the spring tasks of tending the bees.
As the snow goes away and grass starts to grow, it is time to walk fence. Always holes are discovered- from deer and moose breaking through, from downed trees or broken fence posts. It is a race to keep ahead of the cattle, as they seek out the tender new grass. They prove the adage that, for them, 'the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence'.
Hens and other poultry lay more eggs, and more fertile eggs. Those who can go broody gather clutches and begin to set. Easter comes, the Christian makeover of more ancient celebrations of spring and new life. Fruit trees and grapevines need pruning. Perennials peek through the soil and are welcomed back.
As the weather gets warmer, impatient house holders set wide the doors and windows. The energy of spring cleaning begins to take over.
Equipment is overhauled, and the frenzy of planting takes over. The outdoors becomes more of a living space. Chairs are set out in the garden, but seldom used. Plants indoors all winter demand to come out of the greenhouse onto the lawn. Hens fly out of the hen yard, and the garden needs protection.
As the garden grows, water becomes an issue. You need just enough, not too little, not too much. Weeds vs mulch vs cultivation becomes the new tug of war. Peas need to be staked. Plants waiting for weather warm enough to be set out form a lengthening queue at the garden gate. Calculations are reviewed to ensure that corn is started early enough. Late frosts may demand emergency cover for tender plants. And always, the cows crowd around, testing the fence.
Finally planting is done, milking has settled down to a routine, cheese making begins, and plants are beginning to grow rapidly. Depending on how many cattle are out on field, the pastures may be growing grass faster than they can eat it. The bull courts his ladies to ensure next years' calves are started.
Suddenly- it is time to think about getting in new hay. You fight the weather, job schedules, and time in general in order to stack hay bales in a real-life version of the computer game Tetris. The cows think this is great fun, and do their best to turn the scene to one of total chaos. Days are so busy that calves may get a break out on field with their moms if there is no time to milk.
Aah- finished getting in the hay sometime in July- and winter grains look to be getting ready for harvest. Meanwhile, of course, peas, lettuce, and broccoli have been blessing the table. To can or not to can- to freeze or not to freeze- that is the question.
For me, cheese making is an ongoing project.The milk fridge fills with gallons. I come in and empty it every 2-3 days to make a wheel of cheese, which then is salted, and goes down to the cellar (the 'cheese cave') to age.
Midsummer is technically past, but the heat of the year is yet to come. For some, this is the season of late planting. For me, it is the season of trying to keep up with the drama that is the garden. Pesto making. Garlic scapes. New potatoes. Weeding, mulching, watering if necessary. Watching the spring grains beginning to head out. Keeping the cows where they belong. Trying to control the depredations of rodents, turkeys, and other unidentified nocturnal marauders. Enjoying the superb display of summer storms. Standing in the midst of this land that is my love, and feeling the energy flow up and into me, and out again in thanksgiving and praise of the Creator.
The cattle don't take too many breaks, and so neither do I. I walk the fences again. The section running by the swamp verge can be a nice dry cakewalk, or, conversely, a wade through a temporary bog if it has been raining heavily. I check the apple trees on the way by.
On 'slow' years, I get a chance to work with the perennials beds and the flower beds. It's been 3-4 years since I had a 'slow' year- grain growing takes up that slack time. But since they *are* perennials, they come back and work within their own space, according to their own agendas.
For me, spring grains are usually mature sometime in August. The years I have done field peas and flax, they came ready somewhat earlier. Harvest strategy varies, depending on the amount to be brought in and how tall it grew. But for me it is always a miracle to see the grain in the heads, and know it is a food source that goes back as far as our recorded history. We have to get the sheaves out of the field, protected from rain and rodents, and then deal with drying, threshing, winnowing, and storage.
Apple harvest starts with the earliest in August, and the latest in October to November. I love the winy taste of the juice. It is an enlivening food. The questions; To press, or not to press? To sauce, or not to sauce? My husband (the hunter) is always anxious to know how heavy the harvest will be and if it will attract the deer. It certainly attracts the cows. They are fiends for apples.
The garden continues to gift us with its bounty; garlic, turnips, beans, corn, squash, tomatoes, peppers, herbs, the occasional melon maturing as if by accident. Berries. Grapes. Carrots. More potatoes. Cabbage for sauerkraut and Kim Chee. The kitchen porch becomes a holding area for vegetables. Food processing strategies multiply, and compete with cheese making.
And the cows continue to walk about, eating as they go. Summer wind storms knock down trees to open new holes in the fence, and the cows appear in the yard, or on the road. Off I go again to fix fence. It's such a great excuse for a walk, and more apples.
It is autumn, time of the harvest moon and the first frost. The tropical plants make their annual migration into the greenhouse. The last herbs are harvested for seed. I dig valerian root. Dried beans and soybeans, field corn, winter squash, the last carrots, and potatoes.Another round of processing for the dried beans and corn. Now the porch becomes problematic for tender vegetable storage. Sheets go out into the garden to cover ripening tomatoes and peppers. I make salsa, and feel myself starting to bid farewell to the summer garden.
The day length rapidly shortens. I start to have to go to work or come home in twilight, , the milk supply dwindles, and I cut back to milking once a day. The calves are big, and while still taking milk, are well-started on hay and grain. supply and demand work well with my own dwindling energy supply.
You can see why, since primordial times, fall festivals have been so important. They celebrate the gifts of summer, and invoke the energy of the stored food and the warmth of the hearth to help us through the cold and dark of the winter. Hunters feel the energy of the deers' rut, and make preparations for the hunt. Many cultures use this time, so rich in the energy of transition, to remember the dead. It is a gathering in of those good energies so that the, unseen yet nonetheless still remembered, loved ones not be left out in the cold.
In the crisp fall air, the stars in the night sky are especially bright, and the fall and winter constellations come wheeling up in the turn of the season. I love the grouping of Orion, Taurus, and Canis Major. The hunter (whom I think of also as the herdsman), the bull, and the dog. As I walk afield in the night with my dog to check the herd, we are all here below, as they are above. They are good company.
The cows start to eat hay. I count, and count again, adjusting the herd and the hay as necessary to make a good fit. There comes a day when I decide to have done with milking for the year. The calves are let out for the last time, and join the herd. Everyone is happy, and the families are complete. From this point on, through the winter, I only have to feed out hay, occasional grain, see to winter shelter if the weather is too harsh, make sure the brook stays open for water, and wait for spring's new beginning.
Indoors, it comes to be time for the wood stove and winter's strategies for heat management. Soon enough comes the solstice, and the winter holidays, which again invoke the warmth of human loving and giving.
I go through my winter spurt of 'indoor' energy- sometimes weaving cloth, sometimes (as this year) writing- or, as it were, weaving words- and trying to stay active enough not to put on too much winter weight. We increasingly delight in winter food- chile, stews, soup, rolls- but continue to crave greens and the stores of vegetables put by earlier.
And -as now, February 5th, 2012, there is time enough to rest and reminisce, balance activity with thought and the quiet learning that comes in the aftermath of an epic struggle.
From my blog;
It is now 1/24/12. This is the quiet time of my year, with the cows out on field with their calves, slowly self-weaning as the moms get ready to calve- hopefully not til March or April.
My interaction with them is the daily feeding. As calving time gets closer I will be doing frequent checks. I call them ‘baby bed check’, and as we get close, they can be every 2-4 hours,through the night depending on the weather.
On some years, they calve when the grass is already green, and I have to look for them where they choose to bed in the woodland or on the verge of the swamp where the early grass grows. Other years the snow is still on the field and they stay closer to the barn.
People come over here and look at me funny, when they see some of the things that I do. I've been told this is too much work. Ya gotta love em, but, honestly, don't they understand how much fun this is? it's life, fully engaged, the best of times. Not 'virtual reality', but the real thing.