The new fence appears to be working, fingers crossed. To get in, the chickens must either fly over or hike 240 feet to the fence's end. If they take the hike, adding another 10 or 15 feet to close the rectangle will be an easy fix compared to what we've already done.
So yesterday I removed what had become a ratty yellow mess, the mesh fence around the winter wheat. I could have torn it down, pulled out the stakes and been done with it. A friend would say I have too much time on my hands for that, which I think puts the cart before the horse. I like to think I'm past believing my time is better spent in "productive" use when I could pay someone "less than I'm worth" to do this kind of work. I enjoy repetitive, useless endeavors such as removing the metal staples that held the yellow mesh to wooden stakes. For me, it's meditative, like shelling peas, pulling weeds, and, sometimes, translating regulatory gobbledygook. Everyone should be paid the same for the work they do.
"Tell me another one," says Virginia. "You'd gripe about Johnny sitting on his arse all day, except for his smoke breaks every hour or two."
Good point. Ummm, how about let's appreciate the folks who do well the things we don't want to do by treating them like ourselves and paying them fairly?
Moving on...after shelling a few bushels of peas, what happens to them? They get buried in our chest freezer and we can't find them. Last night we attacked that problem. We unloaded the deep-freeze and repacked everything. It was like a trip to the grocery store when everything is free. Pears, apples, strawberries, and raspberries galore! Sweet corn and peas coming out our ears! Local lamb, venison, chicken, and goat! Squash, tomato sauce, sweet peppers, green beans.
The Bowman Women; A Work In Progress
1 week ago