An Arkansas Black, partially pruned

Standing on the orchard ladder, I reached high over my head and made an initial cut to a large branch. Removing it would allow the sunlight to filter through to the inner branches. This Arkansas Black is one of our more productive apple trees. It is also a handsome tangle of branches, seemingly budding out and growing in every conceivable direction.

While pruning can be the perfect meditative activity, initially it is a task of almost daunting proportions (one that would surely be made simpler if I pruned more often than every five years). But an afternoon spent slowly and methodically studying and removing unneeded growth can be a fine restorative, particularly after so many weeks of gray skies.

This rare winter day had us both outside all day, not for the chores that needed to be done, but instead for the sheer pleasure of marking every degree the low January sun traced across the Southern sky. We still had to slog through slurry and ponding water, the result of an unrelenting rain that has spawned a small cottage industry of memes (“Thank goodness it is raining; my mud was getting dehydrated”), yet under blue skies, with nary a cloud in sight, our spirits lifted even as the mud sucked at our boots.

A friend had come out earlier in the morning to help clear brush from a fence line and clean up the orchard. We finished before lunch. We then took some time to remove the water sprouts, those skinny whips shooting up from the base of a trunk, from the fruit trees. A bit after noon, we headed to the house for a bowl of soup. Even lunch was taken on the front porch, where we continued to marvel at the perfect weather.

The day had begun, as always, with the noisy coffee grinder whirring, followed by my turning out two dogs and bringing in a third. But even at five o’clock I could feel the promise of the day to come: stars blinked high overhead and Venus hung luminous in the East.

A little before sunrise and dressed for the chill, I pulled on my Wellingtons and walked out to begin the chores. The pigs needed fresh water, and I turned on the spigot at the well house. They squealed insistently, so as the water trough filled, I restocked their automatic feeders, both tasks that must be completed every three days.

Fifteen minutes later, with the water turned off and feeders filled, I headed to the barn to tend the sheep. Usually our first lambs are on the ground by December 31^st. This year, for reasons long and complicated, the onset of the lambing season has remained uncertain.

Feeding time

I entered the barn to be greeted by the most pleasant of sights for a husbandman: a ewe quietly nursing twins. Their tails rotated like propellers in satisfaction as they greedily suckled, and their mother chuckled deeply in encouragement.

I knew then, even before the sun had cleared the ridge, that it was going to be a beautiful day.

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A note: I’ve added a new page on the header for the blog. It will link to a weekly picture update on the gardens and orchard for 2019. It is scheduled to come out each Friday. So, check back from time to time and see how my garden grows.