On Bovine Time

You are entitled to peace. Peace from difficult relationships, peace from this worrisome moment in the world, peace from your own self-judgement. Take your quiet time in the shade. Whether you want to use that time to pick your nose with your own tongue is up to you (and your tongue’s dexterity). — Gimlet

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Here’s What’s Happening At Good Spirits Farm

The best way I can describe farming through a pandemic, then a divorce, then a career change, then a baby, is that I have been running up the “down” escalator as fast as I can. I am keeping up, but it feels so hard to actually get anywhere.

And then August hits like someone rolling down the escalator in one of those blow-up sumo suits, knocking me down to the bottom as they go. Any hope I had of keeping on top of things is lost as the apples, grapes, pears, tomatoes, corn, raspberries, and squash all come in at once.

To be clear: I am not complaining. We have food better than what you can buy at the store and too much of it. I relish sharing with neighbors and family. Tomato rich is my real status goal in this life.

But right now, there is never a moment of downtime. Never even a hope of getting ahead. Three things get added to my to-do list every time one thing comes off. The chickens, of course, are no help, sunbathing while I toil away.

I spend this time reminding myself it won’t be like this forever. (Though, I also spend it having the occasional meltdown about how next year I am ABSOLUTELY not planting as big a garden. I mean it this time! For real!!) And then I eat my weight in tomatoes each day and knowing I’ll be right back here again next year.

In other news, we are on weasel watch. A guy helping with some odd jobs on the farm reported a weasel-like critter trying to breach the teen hens’ rolling coop. Weasels LOVE killing chickens. Like cats, they delight in hunting for sport. If they can gain entry to a coop at night, they’ll kill every chicken—and not even eat half of what they kill.

Weasels are a five-alarm fire to chicken farmers. Immediately, I moved the teens in with the big gals. Ruthie and Bumble were also evicted from their rolling retirement coop and added back to the main flock. The chicken shack, as ugly as it is, has so far proven to be secure, and I’m not taking any chances.

For the past few nights, I have set out all four Hav-A-Heart traps, baited with fresh cow liver and salmon. Veli has been reminded that the chicken yard is part of her domain, and she needs to patrol it while doing her nightly bark-a-thon. So far, I haven’t caught anything, but I also haven’t lost any birds. Let’s hope that luck holds.

Oh also, the farm caught on fire.

It’s been dry, and someone likely tossed a cigarette butt out their window. Thanks to the local fire department, it was out in a jiffy, and no critters were harmed. Three cheers for taxpayer-funded government services!

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Here’s What I Loved This Week

I look forward to making this tomato dumpling salad every summer. I know that sounds like a strange combo of ingredients, but it’s terrific, easy, and uses up a ton of tomatoes. It’s on tap for our “date night” dinner tonight. [My tip: if you’re making enough for a couple of nights, store surplus dumplings separately, otherwise they’ll get quite mushy in their tomato juice bath.]

Last note (IMPORTANT!): I am working on moving off the Substack platform. This newsletter will remain free. It brings me joy to share my farm with so many of you. However, the email address from which the newsletter is sent may change shortly. Keep an eye on your spam folder!