Our corn has gone nuts. Which, I suppose, is a consequence of a) planting it in exceedingly rich compost comprised of rotted leaves and chicken poop, and b) an exceedingly large amount of rainwater. Much of which fell from the sky, but more of which was carried in a bucket by hand from a pond I'm desperately trying to drain.
The plum trees didn't sprout leaves until, oh, a week ago.
The basil is finally showing signs of fertility, which is good, because it was embarrassing to see it struggling for so long. If you can't grow basil in the Brazos Valley, then there's no hope for you. Bryan/College Station is like Sicily with Aggies. Actually, I've met a Piedmontese who would say Aggies are an improvement over Sicily, but as he had lots of other opinions with which I disagreed, I'll end my digression.
Anyway, the Chickens are still somewhat happy, given the new abundance of weeds and greens, but a) they need a fan during the afternoons, and b) we've taken to hosing them down. Them, and their hammocks. And the reed fencing along the sides of their pen. And we put a tarp over their roof to shield them from the sun. They just might get through the summer without broiling. Mmmmm.... broiled chicken.... sorry, another digression.
You may notice the grapes are doing well, also. The intentional ones are Thompson's Seedless, which are not really adapted for our area, but they were cheap so we figured, "Hey, why not?" The unintentional grapes, however, are mustangs. Muscadine, for the non-native Texans in the audience. And they are beautifully, wonderfully, magically, maliciously invasive. Which is good, because we WANT them. They are more acidic than their cultivated cousins, but when we mix them with other fruit (blackberries, strawberries, plums, raspberries, pomegranates...) they should make some pretty good wine. And jellies. And cobblers. And who knows what all else.
Finally, we're giving birth this month. Well, one of us is, anyway. But the point is, it may keep us from posting for a while. We'll try to keep up, but no promises.
Happy farming!
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You ever notice how odd fig leaves look? I can't imagine fig leaf underwear. A serious problem for the continuity director in that whole Garden of Eden story, I think. An orange leaf would have worked MUCH better, but the Elohist author of the story came from a pretty desolate agricultural region, so s/he probably had never seen an orange. I must remember to ask a learned rabbi about this little bit of trivia...
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