Morning Has Broken

Morning here on the homestead.

The geese are in the kiddie pool in back. They flop themselves in and out, righting themselves immediately as if to say "I'm alright! I meant to do that! Pretty funny, huh?" and then they go squeaking off in search of something else green to munch.

The garden is half-planted. The geese helped weed yesterday afternoon as Richard hoed and I carried up blue slate flagstones to set paths throughout our plantings. Looking up to the garden now from the vantage-point of our kitchen table I can see the colored plastic cups and white isagenix jars we used to cover the sweet potato sprigs by flashlight last night to protect them from the 27 degree drop. Yes, 27 degrees. These are the percs, folks. Most of the sweet potatoes seem to have weathered the chill well. We're holding off on putting the tomato plants in, as well as the butternut and acorn squash, lima bean, and cabbage starters because we're expecting freezing temperatures again tonight BUT we still have seeds for lettuce, chard, turnips, and radishes to put in as well as several varieties of pumpkin for Richard's uphill garden just north of the orchard.

Sophia brought in a little pink mole baby from outside earlier that we had to wrest from her only to give it a watery death in the whirling toilet waters.

Richard has a broody hen going. A broody hen is a hen who is trained to sit on eggs 24/7 (with some stretches worked in, a nice roll in the dust, a bathroom break or 2. Other than that, their union is very weak and makes very few demands on their behalf. After all we're talking about a chicken here.) Broody hens are rare things indeed these days and Richard seems very happy about the creation of one of his very own. "Nanna" (as we've named her) is a big girl. We've named her after my grandmother on my dad's side, Grace Thomas Butler (nee Renfrow), Nanna to me. Nanna was big, at one time topping 300 pounds. Our "Nanna" is suited well for the job - a good sitter, patient, very protective - and Richard has ordered 5 fertile eggs to place under her so she can actually hatch something. He's also built her a "broody pen" to quarantine the chicks off with her after they hatch to protect them from the other peck crazy hens. Richard needed a new project since the Narragannsett turkeys aren't coming.

The Canadian Goose family on the pond are coming along nicely, the offspring growing by leaps and bounds. The adults are exceptionally good parents, calm, watchful, almost regal in their demeanor, very patient.

The stars were glorious last night in the clear chill air. Inside was a nice wood fire we'd stoked for our dinner party guests. We put on a nice big apple wood log when we went to bed and its warmth greeted us this morning when we woke at 6 for coffee and some writing. It's a little disconcerting having such cool temperatures on Memorial Day, but it did feel very comforting, like being wrapped in flannel sheets and pajamas. Some of the sting of cold weather is taken away, though, when I look outside and it's green, green, green instead of white, white, white and barren.

All is sunny and bright and warm/cool outside and beckons long walks in the country and musings along the way, so I plan to take a book along with me and a nice empty journal to write in along my peripatetic way. Valderee, valderah.

Have a grand day one and all.