Potatoes & Chainsaw Bikes
When I came home I spent some time outside with the critters, doing chores and checking on beasts large and small. I weeded a small kale patch in my kitchen garden (pictured above). That little garden is doing well and providing plenty while giving the bee hive some valuable real estate. That whole front garden, long and true, is just potatoes. There are 24 plants in there and I am hoping for a harvest of sixty pounds of spuds. Sixty pounds will keep this one woman all winter, most likely. What a thing, that. It seems like a lot of potatoes, and it is, but what amazes me about growing potatoes is how much food you get for such little effort. This year it was one pass of the rototiller the Hoff family brought over. The year before: an afternoon with a shovel and hoe. Work, sure, but talk about a repayment. A third of my body weight in food! Hooo!
When the chores were done tonight I headed down to my friends' farm. The Daughton Family was helping me out with my truck, which is due for inspection by the end of the month and has several obstacles in its path to passing said test. Mostly having to do with some O2 sensor on the V8, which means I am emitting more emissions than I should. I joke around about how much I get around on a horse these days but Cathy Daughton said she doubted the state had leniency for hoofed miles. But they said they knew the part I needed and would help me install it next weekend. Cathy handed me some freshly picked gooseberries and we snacked while talking about how to get the truck road legal in three weeks. I am praying I can afford the repairs. If I can't, well, I have a horse and work from home. Worst things happen to better people every day.
The highlight of my visit to the Daughton's is Ian's invention (age 12). He has created a motor bike by rigging a chainsaw engine to a regular bicycle. It is genius. By adding a belt, a belt wheel, a starter button and some welding Ian has created gas power to his huffy. Ian is going places. I eat more gooseberries and wonder what people in the city do on Sunday nights?
The rain is starting to pick up and thunder is starting to rumble. I am thinking about the piglets. Earlier this afternoon I made sure they had a pile of bedding deep enough to sublet a rabbit warren. They had a dinner of yesterday's goat milk and some pig chow with some kitchen scraps and I am thinking of them now as I write you fine people. Out behind this farmhouse two piglets are dry and sleepy, buried in hay and listening to rain on a metal roof while they doze off with full belly. It makes me happy, as any thought of animals in comfort based on my direct actions does.
Tonight I am going to sit back and watch Babe, a favorite move with plenty of sheepdog trials and farm goodness inside it's truffle center. I have not seen it in years. I am excited. Rex is my favorite character in that story and it'll good to see him again. And on that note I say goodnight. Let us celebrate good dogs, beds of potato futures, snug piglets fat on goats' milk, and movies that keep us smiling. We're the lucky ones, us.