Eggs at last

 While the rain drought deepens (no rain for a month now), the egg drought seems to be over! Our two Ameraucanas, Silvia and Goldie, have resumed laying blue eggs, and we are getting two to four eggs a day again. Lucky still seems to show no interest in transitioning from pullet to hen.

Three eggs, including a blue one

We’ve had frosts the last two nights. The cold temperatures are supposed to make Brussels sprouts sweeter. They have been slow to develop this year, perhaps because they are not fond of head. Some of them are finally taking off, and I plan to harvest some this afternoon.

Long-awaited Brussels sprouts

Others persist in being slackers. I have no hope for them, as the lateral buds are showing no signs of developing. I planted two varieties, but performance did not sort out neatly as one variety being consistently better than the other. I am perplexed. I might be planning them too close together.

Underachiever

I started cleaning out the north garden. The tomatoes and tomato cages are out. I’ve pulled up most of the drip lines and some of the landscape cloth. It’s dusty work with the ground so dry, but it’s better than doing it in mud. I meant to have it all cleaned out by now, but I was distracted by applesauce and apple butter. So many apples.

Partially cleaned garden

I won’t have to trim the strawberry leaves before I cover the beds with straw this winter. The deer have done an excellent job of that.

Deer-trimmed strawberry bed

Two of my tomato plants in the high tunnel are living in their heads. They refuse to acknowledge the coming of autumn. I got sick of picking/processing tomatoes weeks ago, but Terry refused to give up. He says he is still picking red tomatoes, which he is finding homes for. He must be doing a good job, as I haven’t seen any that are taking on any color at all. Conventional wisdom suggests that tomatoes need a longer day to ripen.

Tomatoes in the high tunnel that won't quit

Last year we had a giant evening primrose that got as tall as the tractor shed. I expected lots of primrose in that area this summer, given the millions of tiny seeds that primrose dropped everywhere. My flower book says they bloom from June through September, but they obviously did not read the book. They did finally appear at the end of September. Like the tomatoes, they are living in their heads. It does not seem that the seed pods will ripen before the killing frost. Hard to say, though, because it’s supposed to warm up again in a couple of days.

Late blooming evening primrose

We don’t have much fall color here. The trees along the creek are mostly box elder, which merely turn brown and shrivel up. The red maples are still green. We do have one sassafras tree, which I think is from a seed collected from the big sassafras that grew in the yard of my childhood home. It’s a good story, anyway. This tree is brilliantly red (mostly).

Sassafras tree

Sassafras has three kinds of leaves. I learned them as “mittens.” The mittens can have one thumb, two thumbs or no thumbs. Our tree has mostly no thumbs or two thumbs. It was hard to tell, though, because there has been a lot of nibbling.

Zero- and two-thumbed mitten leaves

I really am going to finish cleaning up the garden this weekend. Really! It will be no fun at all if the ground freezes. Also, I’ve got to get the garlic planted. Time goes so fast.

Fall Molt

 Moving the hens to their winter coop late has had consequences. The main reason we do it is to give them artificial light because they will stop laying with less than 14-hour days. I neglected to think of the other day length cue—molting. Many birds molt seasonally. Some do it to change to and from breeding colors. Others, including chickens, do it to replace worn and damaged feathers prior to winter's cold. Molting and lack of egg laying are two sides of the same coin. Hens have resources to grow new feathers or lay eggs, but not both. For most of September, day after day I’d find piles of feathers under the roost in the morning. Five of the eight hens looked more bedraggled by the day.

Silvia and Luella. Note Silvia's unkempt appearance and
downy feathers peeking through on Luella's chest.

Trudy is losing her characteristic bronze feathers with black edge. 
She is a golden Wyandott like Luella, above, and should look the same.

Goldie having a bad feather day

Close up of wing feathers growing in

Someone who (I suspect) spends too much time on the internet told me that molting is painful for chickens, and you shouldn’t pick them up while they are growing feathers. I was skeptical. I did some googling and found words like “sensitive,” which could be interpreted as painful, but how maladaptive would that be? Feathers are analogous to hair in mammals. Hair doesn’t hurt when it grows. I have observed my chickens preening constantly (poking at their skin and pulling their feathers through their beak). To me, it looks like molting itches, which would be annoying enough, certainly. Bad news—molting takes 8 to 12 weeks. We may not have extra eggs until Thanksgiving.

Frankie preening or scratching itches. Hard to tell

Lucky doesn’t molt. She’s too young. She’s grown into a pretty young lady. She is not showing any signs of getting ready to lay, more’s the pity.

Lucky

Her feathers are iridescent green when the sun hits at a certain angle. It doesn’t show up well in the picture, but it’s impressive in person.

Lucky's iridescent feathers

The silver Wyandotts also don’t seem to be molting, but I can’t explain why. They don’t look like they’re missing feathers.

The two silver Wyandotts, Dottie (left) and Bonnie

Right now, we get 0, 1 or 2 eggs a day. It takes more than a week to accumulate a dozen. I know for a fact that Goldie and Silvia are not laying as we have not gotten a blue egg in over a month. I think that only Bonnie and Dottie are laying. We seem to be getting only two kinds of eggs. One is normal and the other is an odd elongated shape. I don’t know which one lays which. For now, we’re just grateful for what we get.

Same breed, two egg colors and shapes. A mystery.

Boundary Waters Days 5 and 6

 On Thursday of vacation, we had eggs with stuff, fried corn and potatoes, and bacon. I hoped the julienned potatoes would take on a hashbrown-like presentation, but it turned out the julienned does not equal grated.

Breakfast

We finished breakfast at 11:30 and proceeded directly to Sydney’s for a Turtle Sundae lunch. The custard was smooth and lovely as usual. The caramel sauce was delicious. But they were low on hot fudge and what the server scraped off the bottom of the warmer pot was burned. The pecans were neither roasted nor salted. We were disappointed.

Jane eats a less-than-satisfactory turtle sundae

I took a bazillion pictures of the gulls on the beach trying to decide if they were ring-billed or herring. I think it might have been a mix. Some of the gulls definitely had a black stripe on their bills.

Ring-billed gulls?

We did some shopping, picking up our 2025 calendars from Betsy Bowan. We had leftover brats for supper with margaritas. After supper, we put together out last jigsaw, “Summer Gazebo.”

Summer Gazebo

Friday was a day to just unwind at the cabin. We had pancakes for breakfast and “smorgasbord” (eat what you can find) for the rest of the day. 

Last pancakes, last peach

It rained sometimes and misted sometimes. We were not inclined to go anywhere. We only left the cabin to pay our bill and book the first week in August next summer.

We packed. We slept. We drove home Saturday.

Boundary Waters, Day 4

 We started Wednesday, Aug. 7 with Eggs ‘n’ Stuff (garden fresh tomatoes, onion, green peppers) and bacon. The only bread we had was brat buns, which were excellent fried in butter.

Eggs 'n' Stuff

The main activity for the day was our annual visit to the Chik-Wauk Nature Center. They had a new exhibit this year—a trapping cabin down by the water. The trail was not exactly handicapped accessible. Jane got down okay, but there was a moment when we weren’t sure she would get back up. That first step was a doozy.

Trapper's cabin by the lake

The cabin excited my imagination. It was tiny, but had everything a man would need except social interaction. You’d have to be a loner to begin with to choose such a profession, and the isolation was likely to make you quirkier. I expect many of them were known as “characters.”

Inside of the cabin, spare, but adequate

Various traps hung on one wall along with a long board that might have been some kind of sled.

Traps

The room was heated by a cheaply-constructed, light-weight stove, according to a plaque. The trappers preferred them because (obviously) they were easier to transport to remote parts of the wilderness.

A typical but hazardous trapper's stove

The downside was that the stoves got wicked hot and tended to burn the shack down. There’s always a catch.

The cabin as displayed seemed to have adequate space to move around. I read the information about a trapper’s life and imagined what it would look like with pelts stacked everywhere. Furthermore, what would that smell like? Not good. A trapper could work all winter and have the whole stash go up in smoke from the tin-can stove. Tough life.

Before we left, we admired some tiny ferns at the side of the parking lot. Jane is fond of tiny ferns.

Tiny ferns growing on a hill

I made something new for supper that turned out very well. I sauteed a chicken breast with green beans, garlic, peppers, onion, and cherry tomatoes. Basil would have been a good addition, but it does not travel well. I threw in some cooked penne at the end.

Supper

After supper, we did the next jigsaw, “Colorful Harvest.”

"Colorful Harvest"

For dessert, we had scones with blueberry and peach compote. It was another lovely day.

Scones, blueberries, and peaches
(Don't be shocked by the plastic spoon. We've been using the same ones for years)

Meanwhile, back at the ranch

 

I’ll get back to vacation blogging soon. Meanwhile, back at the ranch, the last of the harvest is coming in. Kudos to me for picking the carrots before they split this year! I was pretty excited.

Perfect, not overgrown carrots, for once.

I only had one weird composite carrot this year, but it was a good one. Is Mr. Carrot walking to the right or the left? You decide.

Mr. Carrot hits his stride

I had to pull the beets too. They were not doing well in the heat. Their leaves were yellow and droopy. I thought it was only a matter of time before the roots started getting soft, so in they came. I made a big batch of borscht, one of Terry’s favorites. I didn’t meet to make such a large quantity, but it grew as I added more and more vegetables. It was enough for three meals, two of which are now in the freezer. The rest I canned as pickled beets.

Beet harvest

Goldenrod are blooming everywhere. Since I took these pictures, the New England asters have also flowered. These two are the last gasp of summer.

So much goldenrod!

The ironweed and great blue lobelia that I grew from seed finally bloomed! I’ve seen hummingbirds at the lobelia.

Ironweed

Ironweed, close up

Great Blue Lobelia

The partridge pea and wild senna seedlings also bloomed.

Partridge Pea

Wild senna, first year

The senna seedling is puny in comparison to the second year senna, which is over my head.

Wild Senna, second year

Last year’s cup plant also got very tall this year. I can hardly believe my efforts have been so successful. Now we wait to see if they start spreading.

Cup plant, second year

I found this awesome spider nearby, large and beautifully colored.

Big, beautiful spide

I was surprised to see boneset growing next to one of the plantings I did last year. I didn’t put it there. Build it, and they will come! I wonder what else will pop up unexpectedly as the ground recovers from years of corn and soy.

Boneset

 

Boundary Waters, Day 3

 

Tuesday, August 6.

Rain was in the forecast for Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday. We felt it best to take our drive around Greenwood Lake today while the weather was nice.

I packed a lunch while Jane went to the Loon’s Nest Café for chocolate croissants. They had just come out of the oven when she got there and were still a little warm when she returned to the cabin. I love chocolate croissants!

We did not see much wildlife on our drive. We have not seen moose in several years, but Nancy, the outfitter, said that guests the week before had seen a cow moose and calf cross Hungry Jake Rd. the week before. All we saw was this ruffed grouse, tail spread and head feathers erect. Jane stopped the car so I could take pictures.

Grouse wearing a tiara

The grouse just stood there, and we just sat there, staring at each other. Suddenly a chick burst forth from the underbrush and scurried across the road. It did not wait around long enough for my camera to focus on it.

Baby grouse

We went back to staring at Mama Grouse. Another chick exploded from the side of the road and flew awkwardly to the other side. Then another, and another. Four all together. Finally, the mama moved off.

We saw a beaver lodge, but no beaver.

Beaver lodge

Happily, our favorite campsite on Esther Lake was unoccupied. We sat at the picnic table and had a leisurely lunch, enjoying the view of the lake and the exceptionally pleasant weather.

"Our" campsite at Esther Lake

I explored the back of the campsite after lunch. It is amazing how many plants will grow on solid rock. Where the rock is flat, trees eke out a living on the dead material that slowly accumulates.

Rock wall with mosses and ferns, plus trees on top growing with hardly any soil.

We finished up the loop in Grand Marais. We went to Dairy Queen for ice cream. So much cheaper than Sydney’s. Back at the cabin we grilled brats and ate the last of the sweet corn.

The whole loon family came by. We first saw them in the bay to our left,

Loon, party of three

And later right in front of us.

Closer view

Jane and I sat out on the deck until bedtime, talking and soaking up the perfect summer evening, the sun on the water, the air pleasantly cool, and no mosquitos!