Five Green Acres Mary Jo + Andrew Borchardt fivegreenacres@gmail.com Poynette, WI
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Harvesting bits where we can.

Harvesting bits where we can.
May 31, 2011 Mary Jo

Goodness is popping up all over the place these days, and we’re harvesting what we can.  Lettuce, asparagus, nettles…and our Flower Fairy is keeping us in a steady supply of fresh-cut flowers. Nary a bloom escapes her attention – this morning’s fresh pick was iris.  I hardly noticed they’d opened before she came bursting in the house with a mitt full.

And for the first time since Be-bop-a-re-bop Rhubarb Pie became the birthday standard for Captain Daddio, we were unable to fulfill the order on time; the rhubarb was not nearly tall enough to harvest back in early May.  No matter – after a couple of weeks we celebrated with a belated, albeit just-as-delicious pie.  A pretty damn good-looking one too, if I may say.

And there was a minor border dispute between this pine snake and Capt. Daddio’s (very thick soled) boot.  How’s that for an action shot?  Pine snakes are rather benign, so don’t worry.  They’re not venomous, but have a fake sort of rattle at the tip of their tail, which makes them, to my ignorant ears, rather like-a-rattlesnake-are-you-SURE-it’s-only-a-pine-snake? scary.  That’s what alerted Daddio to the snake’s presence.  (the fake rattle, not my worried second-guessing) Unable to make a quick getaway, the snake coiled up, started the warning rattle and only resorted to striking when the aforementioned boot invaded his/her personal space.

Tuesday it is already?  Whew.  Stay tuned for all kinds of garden reporting for the rest of the week.  I’m working as hard as these overworked muscles will allow to get the rest of the garden in.  Yesterday, in honor of the unofficial start of summer, we took advantage of the unseasonably hot weather by moving ripe sheep manure from the winter pasture, where it was layered thick, to a heaping, smelly pile in close proximity to all three gardens.  Oh yes, there are 3 active gardens in the works, plus the squash bed.  The squash, I decided, was best suited to the winter pasture, with plenty of room to sprawl, and all fenced off from the scratching of chickens, to boot.  It is the same winter pasture that was, until yesterday, formerly covered in a foot of composting sheep manure and hay.  I think both of us shit-shovelers are pretty happy to see the work week arrive today, if only to get a break from the weekend.  Pardon the crassness, please.  After a sweltering day of sun + manure, this farmer’s getting a little rough around the edges.  Ahem.

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