Spring has Sprung... and Our Personal Hibernation is Almost Over

Spring has sprung in the Brazos Valley.  We have had a fairly eventful Winter, in which temperatures were yet again above the monthly 20^th century averages (as they have been every month since the late 1970s), and yet… enough freezing events happened that we were worried for a good long while about our pomegranates, figs, and peaches.

We are pleased to report that all the fruit trees save perhaps one of our six peach trees made it through unscathed.  We lost a eucalyptus, but then, we never really thought of it as a permanent fixture anyway – it was always just a matter of time before it froze back.

Meanwhile… our overwintered crops are doing well.  Fava beans should be ready to harvest in a month or so, onions are blooming, and our garlic is as big as I ever remember it getting before.

And the inevitable signs of Spring are here, too.  Sometime shortly after the blue jays return in full force to our canopy, we know the blackberries will be in bloom, and the wild grapes will not only sprout plentiful foliage, but there will also be plenty of little clusters of baby grapes.

And the long, dark winter of the blog is hopefully over, too.  For plenty of reasons, we have not written much lately.  Knock on wood, that may change soon; we’ll certainly have plenty of things to talk about, particularly on the beekeeping front, as we have experienced our first tragic die-off… and have learned many, many things as a consequence.  Our new colony will be installed in May, and we should definitely have a lot more to say about bees leading up to that event.

In the meantime, enjoy some photographic evidence of Spring…

Happy farming!

Those Darned Kids....

"If you are like me, and you certainly must be, you are appalled and shocked at the weird, unnatural things going on tonight."
--Sam the Eagle

Seldom has there been a time in history when one part of the world has not looked at the other parts of the world and shaken either their heads or their fingers.  While we at Myrtle’s place cannot imagine a bigger waste of time than worrying about how someone else chooses to live their lives, we must admit that we, too, sometimes fall into the trap of worrying too much about those other people, and not enough about the state of our own tail feathers.

To that end, as part of our ongoing improvements to the homestead this Spring, we are extending the fence around our back yard, providing more privacy vis-à-vis the rent house to one side.  Along our back fence, which divides our plot from a row of rental duplexes one street over, we are planting a stand of phyllostachys nigra, a variety of medium-to-tall height timber bamboo, with unique black canes.

Privacy was not really much of an issue when we first moved into our little patch of heaven.  The rental duplexes behind us were one-story bungalows, shielded from view by a long stretch of tall yaupon; the rental house next door was occupied by a group of quiet, studious girls from a service sorority, who had handed down the lease from one sister to another for the better part of a decade.

This past Fall, however, the duplexes behind us were demolished to make way for a two-story quadruplex, with upstairs balconies looking straight down into our vegetable plot, and the line of sorority sisters next door ran out, leaving us with somewhat more rambunctious male renters in their stead – not really knuckledraggers, mind you, just typical college boys… the nightmare of cranky codger homeowners everywhere.

Our sense of quiet in the middle of the chaos of city life was somewhat shaken.

Where there is a will, however, there is a way.  We could complain about the beer cans thrown over the back fence – and we have; we could complain about the motorcycle parked in the backyard next door, whose light shines through our living room window – and we did.  But more than complain, we could – and can – act in accordance with our own needs and in line with our own principles.

When Robert Frost said that good fences make good neighbors, it was in observance of the unity provided by the act of mutual maintenance of the boundary between two co-equal neighbors – there is a real and palpable difference, though, when the context is as different as it is in our own case.  We are not really seeking much of anything from our temporary neighbors – just their silence, their lack of intrusion, and their adherence to standards of civility. 

Living as close as we do to a major university, it is inevitable that we will on occasion be surrounded by those whose lack of experience, lack of discipline, and (frankly) lack of good parenting have left them a bit lacking in manners, as well.  And in such circumstances, a good fence can make for good neighbors in an exclusive sense not considered by Frost – what we don’t see won’t annoy us.

There are other benefits to be derived from our new arrangements, and in keeping with our long history of multi-functionality, we are hopeful that we can maximize these other things and minimize our emphasis on keeping the damned kids off our lawn.

First, we are attempting to surround our property with muscadine grapes, which were growing wild here before we ever moved in.  The added support on our western fence line will allow those vines to reach a height of about eight feet.  They will be decorative and fruitful, and should dramatically increase our berry harvest each summer.

Further, we will no longer worry about the incursion of stray dogs into our backyard.  Most have been deterred by our 3 foot tall wire trellis system, but we have had the occasional jumper.  Neither the chickens nor Kitty Purry are amused.

Then there is the bamboo.  Our friends up the street have bamboo, and have advised us most ardently and strenuously not to get it ourselves.  They echo the timeless complaint of homeowners everywhere who struggle mightily to contain this most invasive of canopies. 

What they fail to realize, however, is that we don’t want to contain it.  The wilder and crazier it gets, the better.  Why?  Because we have plans for it.

• Bamboo shoots are tasty and nutritious.  A crop that is impossible to kill is right up our alley when it comes to food sources; stir fry with bamboo?  Oh, yeah, we’re all over that.
• Timber bamboo provides the only possible regenerating privacy screen for our configuration.  Unless the foliage is complete from roughly five feet off the ground up to about twenty feet off the ground… nothing will shield us from the prying eyes of our neighbors to the rear.  We don’t want to see them in their bedrooms; we don’t want them to see us on our back porch.  This solves both problems.
•  Timber bamboo is just that – timber.  There are all kinds of projects – both in terms of carpentry and also in terms of arts-and-crafts, which will be greatly served by having a ready supply of black bamboo.  We are salivating at the thought of the day when we can spend our free time creating things no one else has yet thought of.

Sure, it will require spending time digging up invasive shoots when they get too close to the vegetable beds or the tool shed… and sure, it will require work clearing felled timbers and pruning dead branches… but that just means more mulch for the garden, and more greens for the chickens.  We don’t see how this is a bad thing in any way, shape or form.

So, what started as an irritation… those darn kids… is likely to end as a major upgrade to our homestead.  One step further away from being just a utilitarian plot of ground, we are slowly but surely inching up on also being an aesthetically pleasing garden retreat.  We all have a little bit of Sam the Eagle in us; rather than giving in to the bitter emotions which seem native to that spirit, however, we implore you to consider: 

When life hands you a bunch of lemons, you’re still screwed until you add sugar. 

Don’t just accept bitter circumstances – use them.  Shape them to your will.  Make them not just palatable, but delicious.  A rowdy set of neighbors is not just an irritation – it is also an opportunity.  What else bugs you?  There is the sand where you should dig for pirate booty.

Happy farming!

Once More, From The Top...

Those of you who have been reading Myrtle's doings for long enough may be wondering whether we ever intended to compensate our flock for the loss of Duck the Drake due to the onset of obnoxious rooster behavior.

The answer, until this week, was going to be a resounding 'No!' but we thought better of it.  Since our family is mourning a loss, we thought it might be a good time to make a new beginning in other ways.

So, we've got some new chicks.  They are, naturally, Barred Rock chicks, though at this age, they look an awful lot like three or four other breeds; they're a little older than the last batch we got from the same supplier -- they were already feeding and drinking when we got them, so we didn't have to do the weird routine of forcing their little beaks into the proper dishes.  They are in every other respect as dependent as can be, however.

We're keeping them in a box in the bathroom at present; we have to keep the heater on in there, and we're keeping a lamp on them.  We'll move them to a bigger cage (a converted compost bin, if truth be told) in a week or so, and then, when they are mature enough, we'll make a cage-within-the-coop to acclimate the bigger birds to the smaller, and vice-versa.

We have other new beginnings going on, too.  Our wild grapes (of both the Mustang and the Muscadine variety) are fruiting this season, and between that happy news and the cornucopia of blackberry blooms on the vines this Spring, it looks like we're going to be more than ready to start on the more pleasurable part of our self-sufficiency program, the making of jams, jellies, and wine.

In addition to these utilitarian motives, of course, is the fact that grape vines are exceedingly attractive.  Our borders are soon to be demarcated by lush green vines bearing beautiful bluish-black fruit, and judging by the quantity and the nature of the clusters seen here, they will be bearing quite a lot of it.  This is one plan which is turning out to be far more successful than we ever dreamed it would be.

To top it all off, of course, the vegetables are coming up quite nicely.  We've thinned out our corn, the zucchini is ridiculously happy, as are our four varieties of tomatoes, five varieties of peppers, three varieties of basil, our cucumbers, etc. etc. etc.

We only regret that Papa Dave won't be around at harvest time to enjoy it.  However, we do intend to have quite a party when the corn comes in, so all Friends of Myrtle, be on notice.  Keep a date open some time in late May, early June.  We'll expect you to come hungry!

Happy farming!

Only May... and its almost harvest time!

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!