At 9:40 tonight, it was dark enough that I had to use my phone as a flashlight to find the shutoff switch on our new tiller. I’ll be tilling most of the day tomorrow. With luck, I’ll even get most of the planting done before the rain comes Tuesday night. We’ve got 14 tomatoes in the ground already with drip line under black plastic. Only about 135 more to go…plus the greens and the beets and the onions and the cucumbers, corn, beans, squash, and herbs. We should be able to get a much earlier start next year. Once the rain comes, I can go back to weeding the garlic and harvesting scapes.
Early this morning, I saw a groundhog nibbling grass just outside the new deer fence. I’ve no doubt he could have scurried underneath it, but I scared him away before he figured that out. I’ve had tomatoes out in the newly fenced-off area for a few days now, and no deer nibbles.
The former owner of this property had patched the privacy fence using pieces of sheet metal that I think he salvaged from the fire engine. Since I’m going to be rebuilding the fence, I’m thinking of using some of that metal to predator-proof the hen house. Once that’s secure, I’ll be able to get chicks and work on securing the run.
At this rate, though, it looks like we may not have eggs until winter or spring…which isn’t so bad, actually. I know a lot of you have been really eager to get eggs, but I prefer to get chicks in the fall and raise them over the winter so they start laying in the spring. If they started laying in the fall, they’d slack off anyway over the winter because of the decreased light, but they’d still eat just as much as any adult hens. It’s more economical for me to have them as juveniles over the winter…providing I can keep them warm enough that they don’t pile up on each other and smother each other to death, that is. To that end, I’m thinking about building a rocket stove in the hen house. I’m going to be using sand as bedding, so fire isn’t a concern. It’s just a matter of whether I’ll be able to get it done in time for cold weather.
