Well, that stomach flu that DW had got passed and I've been asleep for about 40 hours of the last 48. As of this morning, anyway. I could still sleep, but things need tending. Just the way it is. I should be right as rain come morning.
The flea beetles wasted no time finding the mustard greens. That field has been fallow for two years, nipped down by the neighbors' llamas. Can't imagine how those bugs showed up so fast, but they did. And I've mixed up a batch of Pyganic to welcome them.
I've piled more dirt on the potatoes. One more pass oughta do it.
Two front-end bucket loads of mule shit on the compost pile. I can't tell you how thrilled I am to have a cooking pile again. It don't take much, do it? But I have to find some way to get excited about mowing the lawn again tomorrow. What? It's been about a week? Maybe less. Anyway, a layer of clipping on top of the mule shit from today, and by the weekend I'll be monitoring the temperature. Here's hoping I get a 150° right off the bat. Remember kiddies, if your pile reaches 170°, it's time to turn it!
Let's see, what else?
The tomato cages have been pulled out of the tall grass and bed straw, more wishful thinking at this point, but it'll give me an opportunity to do some weed-whacking around a big thistle I have plans for.
Oh, and the tansy in town is just coming into bloom, meaning I have about two weeks to conduct my search and destroy mission out in the back ten acres.
And how could I forget? Two adult Barn Owls and one juvenile in the lean-to. Disturbed them a bit when I was bush-hogging out there today, but they didn't fly off into the firs, I reckon because I stayed mounted.
And not a single vole to be found in all that mowing.
Now I'm sitting here wondering if I closed all the gates.
Almost certain I did.
Guess I better put on some boots.