Spring lambs, spring grass
It is still a couple of hours before sunrise, the birds are chattering in the crape myrtle as the sky begins to lighten over the eastern ridge. Our rooster has been offering up his dawn greeting for at least two hours. And Becky just killed a large raccoon at the garbage can. In other words it is another morning on our farm in east Tennessee.
We have a full couple of days ahead planting grapevines, a new nut orchard, adding to the pawpaw grove, finishing the new raised beds for the strawberries and stretching a hundred yards of new fence. There will be a hard freeze tonight and preparations will be needed to protect the figs which are fruiting. And I am smoking a whole lamb today for a few friends who will dine with us this evening.
The work load on the farm at this time of year is over the top. In addition to all of the usual chores and ongoing infrastructure projects the seasonal tasks of mowing, gardening, mulching, pasture renovations and the annual barn cleaning just keep stacking up. Just the prospect of getting off the farm for an hour sends us in to a tail spin, feeling that we just got that much further behind.
But for all that work and the carping about it, we love this life. Mostly, the sheer loveliness of spring in Tennessee, the excitement of waiting for Petunia to farrow and being able to share with friends the bounty of the farm are ample compensations.
Time to get to it.
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Reading this weekend: The Dream of the Earth, by Thomas Berry
One of the things I so like about your blog is the use of lingo associated with farm life I would otherwise never hear or read. You seem to delight, as well, in calling things by their names. Most of us have specialized terminology connected to our own expertise(s).
So what happens to the raccoon? Or for that matter a fox that is killed to protect one’s chickens?
Your words are much appreciated. And a belated thanks to introducing me to the word encomium.
Becky, our farm dog, routinely kills a skunk, opossum or raccoon…perhaps every couple of weeks. We typically consign it the burn barrel. The ashes that I get from the barrel are spread on various gardens and orchards.