Back to our roots

October. It’s quiet in the mornings now, just a few calls from chickadees, crows, and blue jays. I haven’t seen the hummingbirds in awhile, although Jane insists that I need to leave the feeder up until her birthday next weekend. She still has swarms of them at her house. I think that’s where all of mine have gone. 

 It’s time for the roots to be harvested. In addition to the usual odd carrots that grew together, sometimes in obscene ways, I pulled out this carrot that had odd bumps growing on it, as if the side roots failed to elongate. 

Mr. Carrotface

We had a good potato harvest. Terry did a good job of digging without severing very many tubers. I set the cut ones aside in a paper bag marked “wounded.” We use those first. I also separated out the “weenies” which, due to their high surface area, also don’t keep well and need to be used promptly. All the rest were put into boxes by variety, Burbank Russet, Red Norland, and Kennebec. 

Potato harvest, upper left to lower right, Burbank Russet, Red Norland, Kennebec

Oh, the beauty of a new potato! So firm and crisp. So easy to peel. So delicious! I always plan to use them up before they get all shriveled and sprouty, but one day follows another, and before you know it, we will be in March, the Month of the Wrinkled Potato. They are hard to wash and peel, but we eat them anyway. 

A champion-sized Kennebec

I’ve started rolling up the weed barrier between the rows. I hate putting it down, and I hate picking it up, but it sure does save a ton of time in between. Over the summer, numerous ant colonies have decided that the weed barrier makes the perfect cover for their home; it is only a matter of time before I have ants in my pants. I suffered bites to my left knee and thigh, but the itching doesn’t last long. 

Rolling up the weed barrier

The kittens are settling in. I am often delayed in my morning chores by a Banjo on my knee, so to speak. (Oh, Suzanna, don’t you cry for me.…) Here he is napping between my legs. 

Banjo stretched from my feet to my hips--and not even full grown!

Cats can make you feel like you are the most fascinating creature on Earth. They follow us around just to see what we’ll do next. (Are you putting on your socks? WOW!) I spent LOTS of time in the kitchen these days, and my little kitchen helpers are right there with me. 

My kitchen "helpers"

 They aren’t much help, though. I spilled a bunch of chicken stock on the floor, and neither of them showed the slightest interest in helping clean up. Useless!

Too much produce!

I’ve been busy as a bee in a bucket of tar. Not only do we have grapes and apples up to the eyeballs, I had all sorts of meetings last week. I swore off picking tomatoes two weeks ago, but somehow cannot bear to let the last ones rot on the vine. I have become my mother.

Yet in the face of so many things on the To Do List, my motivation is low. The days have been cold and gray with periods of rain. I am grumpy. Fall is my least favorite season as Mother Earth packs up for her winter nap. Every green thing is dying around me. The sun is out today, though, and I have (as I always do) high hopes of having a productive day.

Not everything about fall is bad. There is, for example, raspberry pie! We shared this one with Kate and Jane, who came up last week to meet Banjo and Bingo.

Whole raspberry pie

Sliced raspberry pie

Speaking of, the kittens are still cute, although growing quickly. They are comfortable enough in their new home to appropriate my chair for naps.

Nap time in my chair. Note Bingo's leg over Banjo's back

Last week, though, I was home so little that they started sleeping in Terry’s chair. That hurt my feelings a little.

Relocated to Terry's chair

One evening as Terry was getting ready for his shower, he dropped his work clothes on the floor. “You’ve got to see this,” he called to me in the kitchen. “They look like they’ve killed an antelope.”

Sure enough, there they were, like lions on the Serengeti, guarding their prey.

Cats guarding a fresh kill (Terry's work clothes)

Goldenrod and New England aster are the last gasps of summer blooms.

The last blooms of summer--New England Aster (left) and hard-leaved goldenrod (right)

As such, they are popular with the pollinators. Included in this picture are bumblebees, honeybees, and unidentified small flies. I waited all summer for this particular plant to bloom. It started out with spectacular large leaves. The stem grew and grew while the leaves decreased in size as the height increased. My hopes for large, showy blossoms were dashed when numerous small buds developed. At long last, about two weeks ago, the first blooms opened, and it was another one of myriad goldenrod species, hard-leaved goldenrod, Solidago rigida.

Pollinators on goldenrod

Like goldenrods, bumblebees come in lots of species. This one is twice the size of most bumblebees. I don’t know what kind it is. Bumblebee identification is above my pay grade.

Giant bumblebee

Normally the New England aster is a deep purple, and most of ours is. I noticed these lighter shades for the first time this year. There are three different colors here: deep pink in the upper left, lavender in the middle, and light pink on the right.

Color variation in New England aster

As we were eating supper last Friday, Terry spotted a deer among the river birch. At first he thought it was a buck because it looked so big. Binoculars settled the issue, as there were no antlers. The doe was already in her dark winter coat.

Doe in her winter coat

Soon her fawns showed up, walking along the orchard fence, gazing wistfully at the apples within. They need not worry. We have so many that they will be getting their share when Terry dumps them in the back. He gets them away from the apple trees to break the breeding cycles of the pests.

Fawns by the orchard fence

I took several pictures, trying to get all three in one frame. They finally posed for me. Like many family photos, however, one member of the group had her eyes closed.

Group shot, and Mom has her eyes closed

Now I must get back to the kitchen. The apples await!

Kittens!

I’m sure what you all really want to see is better pictures of our new fur babies. Of the approximately 10,000 that I have taken in the last week, here are a few of the better ones. 

It should be noted that Reno’s name is now Bingo. I picked out Banjo’s name nearly 40 years ago when I showed my high school students a film about Jane Goodall’s study of a lion pride. She named all the animals after stringed instruments. The only one I remember besides Banjo was Lute. Anyway, at the time, I thought, “Banjo! What a great name for a cat!” The only thing was I already had my cat Fruitcake, a.k.a. “Bubby”, and our next cat, Della, was a girl, and Banjo just seems more like a boy’s name. When we got these cats, it was Banjo’s turn. I let Terry name the other cat, but he didn’t pick out a name in 1986 and has been debating. He has until next Monday to make up his mind because that is when the kittens go to the vet for a wellness visit. 

The entertainment center is highly entertaining, particularly the nearly empty shelf where the LPs used to live (as evidenced by the wires that once held them vertically). Now we keep two 3-D wooden puzzles, a wine glass and a bottle, and two gourds. 

Bingo in the defunct LP storage area

Banjo is still the more outgoing of the two. He is the first to find a perch on the back of Terry’s recliner.

Banjo on Terry's recliner

The cat tree has been a big hit. Here is Banjo playing with a feather toy that dangles from a chain. 

Banjo playing with the feather toy on the cat tree

He likes to sleep in the tunnel on the top. (I experimented with getting the reflection out of his eyes, but the fix was worse than the original.) 

One of Banjo's preferred napping areas

During play time, both the boys like to bat at each other from the various levels. 

Fun  in the cat tree

Bingo’s favorite hangout is the chair underneath the table. I think he feels more hidden and secure there. Sometimes Banjo will join him. 

The boys on the chair under the table

Banjo will also sleep on the futon sometimes while Bingo snoozes on the lower level of the cat tree.

Nap time

When Jane got two kittens earlier in the summer, she noticed that they do everything together—eat, sleep, use the litter box, etc. Our boys are a bit more independent, although they often eat together, and I saw them both get in the litter box this morning. 

Synchronous eating

They like to wrestle and groom each other. Like most cats, they like to lie in the sun. 

Brotherly love means licking each other's head

 Their grooming session was interrupted by a fly… 

Whoa! What's up there?

Which they tried (unsuccessfully) to catch. We are hoping that their fly-catching skills will improve. What do they think we pay them for?? 

In pursuit

With the coming of fall, the mornings have been cool and dewy. What I thought were bits of tissue paper scattered across the lawn were actually misty spider webs. 

Webs on the lawn

 We all know the iconic “orb weaver” spider webs with their tidy radial symmetry. These webs are called “irregular net,” which seems to imply “haphazard,” and is rather insulting when one really looks at the architectural feat it represents. The net neatly binds up the grass not only below, but also above, and funnels down to where the spider hides. 

Irregular, but well-constructed, net funneling down to a hole for the spider, just to the right of center

When an insect hits the sticky web, the vibrations signal the spider that it’s dinner time. He or she runs out to capture the prey and pull it into its hidden lair. I tried drawing out the spider by gently tapping on the silk threads, but the spider was not fooled. Thus, I was unable to determine what kind of spider made these nets. 

I’m steadily checking items off the Must Be Done Before Fall list. I picked the onions a couple of weeks ago and set them under a shade/rain shelter to dry. Last week, I cut the tops off and brought them in the house. 

Onions ready for winter storage

I had a marathon canning day Saturday, finishing all the tomato canning I’m going to do this year. In truth, we likely could have gotten along with what we had left from last year. Someday, I hope to come out even. 

The last of the canned tomatoes

 When I went through the seeds last spring, I came upon a padded envelope that had been sent from Athens, Greece. Inside were giant beans that Hilda had ordered. As with all projects that Hilda left undone, my heart broke, but to honor her memory, I planted the giant beans. Well. It ain’t just the beans that are giant. The vines have grown up and over the high tunnel supports. 

Giant bean stalks

The seed set hasn’t been great. I have a couple hypotheses: 1) each bean takes so much energy that it is normal for only a small proportion of seeds to fully develop, or 2) we are not in Athens, Greece. It is also possible that there are more beans higher up, better supported by the larger vines. Time will tell. I found one pod that had all mature seeds. 

Giant beans

I found this large moth in the high tunnel. I suspect that it might be a 5-spotted hawkmoth, which would be bad because they are the ones that start life as tomato hornworms. I moved it out to a birch tree for the picture and will watch the high tunnel tomatoes for signs of infestation. 

Well-camouflaged hawkmoth

The days are approaching 12 hours. The hummingbirds are drinking sugar water like mad. It’s hard to think of them as “bulking up” for their journey south when they are so tiny, but bulk up they must. With the earlier sunset, we can see the backlit hummingbirds during dinner. 

Juvenile male just getting his dark throat feathers

Same bird showing iridescent green back

Just when I was getting sad about the end of summer, I was reminded in the grocery that it is Count Chocula season! Hooray! I have been having my favorite cereal with fresh red raspberries for breakfast. So good!

Count Chocula with raspberries

Back to farm life

 Labor Day. The blackbirds and robins are gone. The hummingbirds are feasting greedily at the feeder, bulking up for migration. I saw several brown-headed cowbird fledglings by the feeder recently.

Fledgling cowbirds (with a mourning dove on the left)

How did that happen? Cowbirds are brood parasites. The female lays eggs in the nests of other species, usually just one per nest. With chicks scattered from here to Kingdom Come, how did these fledglings find companions of their own species?

It had been very humid lately. The meteorologists often speak of “fully saturated” air. It was cool and cloudy yesterday, which was a blessing. When it gets above 80°F, it feels much more miserable than you think just by looking at the thermometer. The early mornings are in the low 60s, and boy, do we get the dew! We have to wear Wellies until late morning. The hens don’t like it much either and hang out on a branch in an apple tree.

I hate that wet grass on my bare feet, don't you?

The pullets are nearly as big as the hens now. They should be laying in a few weeks. I love those cute little pullet eggs.

A Wyandott pullet, right, is almost as big as the Dominique and Wyandott hens, left.

I should say most of the pullets will be laying. It turns out that Dorianne is transitioning to a rooster. As you can see in this picture with his sister Americauna, he’s bigger, has a more prominent comb, and is getting the distinctive long, droopy rooster tail feathers. Sexy!

Dorian, left, with Goldie, both Americauna, but different sexes

I know that sexing chicks is more of an art than a science, but we had no roosters for years, and now we’ve gotten two in a row. Just when I’m trying to reduce our flock. It’s not so bad getting one rooster out of six pullets, but one out of four seems to hurt more. So far, Dorian is behaving himself. He does not crow or pester the girls. Some people keep roosters because they protect the flock. I don’t like to keep them because they can attack humans, and hens often lose feathers and get scratched raw from being mounted. It’s not pretty. If he gets to be a problem, we will either find a home for him or eat him. I’ll be sad because he is a beautiful bird.

We leave milkweed plants wherever they pop up in an effort to support the monarch population. We look and look for leaves that have been eaten by caterpillars. We have more perfect milkweed leaves than you can shake a stick at. Often whole summers go by with we don’t see a single caterpillar. We’ve been luckier this year. I’ve seen a caterpillar and a freshly-emerged adult out in the field. Terry found two caterpillars by his shop and decided to raise them. They were close to metamorphosis when he put them in the jars. In a few days, a chrysalis had formed. I knew the chrysalis had a line of shiny gold spots, but I did not know that there were also gold spots on the bottom.

Monarch chyrsalis with gold spots

Our friend Nancy raises lots of monarchs. She told us once the adult starts to emerge, it goes fast. On August 26, the chrysalis was transparent when we got up in the morning.

Wing shows through the transparent chrysalis, 7:30 a.m. 

At 12:50, the chrysalis got bumpy on the top.

The shape starts to change

At 1:40, a leg stuck out.

It's a leg! (and a head)

One minute later, most of the body was out.

Just about out

Three minutes later, the chrysalis was empty.

Free at last!

At that point, the wings were all crumpled and the body was round, filled with the fluid the insect would pump into its wings.

Swollen abdomen ready to pump fluid into the wings

By 1:53, the wings were inflated, so 13 minutes from the first crack in the chrysalis.

Wings fully expanded

Terry put it outside for the wings to harden. Here it is at 2:20. Shortly afterwards, it was gone. We hope that it flew away and was not eaten by a bird.

Getting ready for flight

Two days ago, the second one emerged early in the morning. Have a nice trip to Mexico, you two!

Emergence of our second monarch on Saturday

The fruits are coming in. I’ve made the first six quarts of grape juice. The jars filled with purple juice have a quiet beauty in the afternoon sun.

Grape juice

Raspberries are gearing up and should produce well until the frost. Kate came over for waffles and raspberries with real whipped cream a few weeks ago when the harvest was just starting.

Waffles with raspberries

I’m staying plenty busy with the tomatoes as well. I found a full-on rotter yesterday which launched me into a frenzy of blanching, peeling, and de-seeding. I canned this morning. What I learned from this experience is that rotten tomatoes can smell exactly like cat pee. I was initially mystified, as we have no cat. The store room/tomato ripening area smells better now.