Honey moon

When I got up Friday morning, I was greeted by the honey moon, so named for its golden color. Apparently that’s common in June.

The honey moon Friday morning

Our chicks will be arriving next week. Tonight we will move the girls back to the permanent coop. The grass did finally recover, if we define “grass” as a motley collection of grass, clover, sprouts from uneaten scratch grains, and assorted weeds.

"Grass" restored to the chicken run

For comparison, here's a photo from March, before we moved them out.

While the girls were sojourning in the south end of the property, I have been putting them to bed in the evening. We should have given more thought to the position of the door when we moved them to the orchard. The door faces the gate, which means they can see me coming. Every night we go through the same ritual. I look out the window to verify that everyone is in the coop. I walk across the lawn, and Rose runs out to meet me, followed by Dorothy and Bella. Sigh. I open the gate. Rose, mistaking me for a rooster, squats and lifts her folded wings to the side. Not being able to give her what she wants, I tuck her under one arm and pet her itty head. I put her in the coop and move slowly to encourage the others in. And Rose comes back out. Eventually, I get everyone in and shut the door.

Really, there is no down side to having a little walk outside at sunset. Such a peaceful time. Two weeks ago, the air was perfumed by lilacs. For the longest time, the chorus frogs serenaded me. Last Tuesday, however, it was strangely silent. When I had a chance at the end of the week, I verified that the fluddle was dry. I wonder if the chorus frogs are buried in the mud until next spring.  I know there are African frogs that survive long periods of drought that way.

The former site of the fluddle, now all dried up and smelling vaguely like a salt flat

All that is left where the pond was are lots of raccoon tracks. I expect they cleaned up all the late tadpoles. I know many of the toads made it to adulthood, but they have left the area or are hiding well. I hope I didn’t squish any when I was walking around. There are deer and coyote tracks in the mud as well.

Raccoon track in the mud

The garden is finally all planted. I have all the drip lines set up. That’s always a process. It begins by me looking at the hoses, looking at the garden, and trying very hard to get last year’s irrigation to line up with this year’s rows. It always seems that it should. It never does. Hope, however, springs eternal. Next, I promise myself that someday I am going to start over from scratch and make one irrigation unit for each crop (four rows of tomatoes four feet apart, five rows of potatoes at three feet apart, etc.) so that they will line up from year to year in perpetuity. Someday. Finally, I buck up and start reconfiguring.

Back when it was cold and rainy, we worried that the potatoes were rotting in the ground. Now that it is hot and dry, every single one is up.

Potatoes

The tomatoes are already getting big. They need weeding already. That will be next.

Tomatoes

The last things I needed to plant were melons and lettuce. Terry has seen a record number of rabbits around this year. I proactively set up a rabbit fence around the lettuce area. Chicken wire is such a literal pain to work with. Plus it was hot, and the clods of soil were dry and rock hard on my knees. I felt the starch melting right out of me (yeah, yeah, I know starch doesn’t melt).

Lettuce enclosure/rabbit exclosure

And now that we have all the plants we want in, we will devote ourselves to pulling out the ones we don’t want until the harvest begins.

Coming soon—birthday fun at the Illinois Railroad Museum.