a man and his hoe

every day is a good day

Author: theMan

A Perfect Fall Day

Skies don’t get bluer than this. Today was a perfect day to pick grapes. Six years ago I planted 15 grape vines, varieties of grapes that ripen this far north. Lynden Blue, Venus, and Canadice from the lovely folks at Cloud Mountain Farm Center & Nursery. Six years later the vines are heavy with fruit. For years we should have a bounty of grapes to enjoy each fall.

I’m happy. The chickens are ecstatic. All the grape bunches on the vine show how generous nature is. A grape vine doesn’t need to make thousands of seeds to reproduce, but it does.

During the summer, a few grains of milo fell out of the chicken scratch and sprouted at the corner of a garage door. When they first sprouted I thought they were corn. But they become something quite different. A few seeds have turned into thousands. This may be worth growing.

September 27, 2020
Blue Sky to Rain to Shaggy Parasol

Yesterday, the skies over Chuckanut were cobalt blue. Today the rain has been falling since morning. The path through the woods is dripping wet. Which got me to thinking, that about this time last year I discovered treasure in the woods behind the cabin.

I tried keeping diaries when I was young. But I found I dreaded reading them later. I’d read a passage where I poured my heart out a year ago and wonder, what was I thinking? What if someone finds this drivel? Who we are changes as often as the weather. I haven’t kept a diary in years. But I do take pictures. 49,654 photos are in my photo library as of a few minutes ago. If I need to recall what was happening on a certain day in the past, I can look at photos from that day or nearby to remind me. I don’t need to read embarrassing passages about how I was feeling at the time.

Last year on this very day, September 26, I discovered where shaggy parasol grow among the cedars behind the cabin. We haven’t had as much rain this September as last year, so I had low expectations when I visited the spot where the shaggy parasol grow.

There were no big shaggy parasol waiting today. Just the start of a baby, I think. With the steady rain of this week, we should be feasting on plump shaggy parasols soon.

September 26, 2020
Six Short Weeks

Six short weeks is all it takes for a duck to grow. It’s hard to believe that the “ducklings” at the edge of the tank were but little puffs paddling with their mother in mid August. I miss their whistles and chirps. They have full throated quacks now.

Until I had ducks, I had no idea how loud ducks can be. They aren’t as loud as parrots, but not far behind.

In late September, the ducklings are nearly as large as their mother. Ducklings are so cute, but if you want to enjoy them, you have to stop what you are doing. Otherwise by the time you pause to enjoy them, they will be grown.

So if you plan on raising ducks, scratch out plenty of free days during the first few weeks after they hatch. You’ll only have a short time to enjoy the wee things. They grow so fast you can practically see them growing with your bare eyes.

Mint is one of the last flowers to keep blooming well into fall. Their delicate flowers fed many a bee through the summer months.

The apples are ripe. There is a special juiciness to apples still on the tree. Pluck one and eat it right away. That special fresh-off-the-tree taste goes quickly.

I was filling the feed bins today. While I went to fetch another sack of scratch, one of the Bielevelder roosters decided to go for the mother lode. Why bother with a feeder when you can have the whole bin to yourself?

September 24, 2020
317 Days for a Miracle

It takes 317 days for a miracle to happen. November 13, 2019, I put up a crock of miso with barley added to the soybeans, a first for me. 317 days is plenty of time to forget. It came to my mind this week that hey, I’ve got to try that barley miso I put up last year.

This morning I went looking for it. I didn’t find it where I thought I’d set it aside. Instead, I found an empty crock in that cupboard. I looked all through the house and garage. I went back to where I was sure I’d placed it, and found it hiding behind the empty crock.

Removing the stone I used for a weight, and the plate I used for the lid, the dark, transformed miso is so warm and inviting. Opening up a crock of miso you put up and seeing the miraculous transformation is so much more fun than buying a tub of miso in the store.

The barley miso is slightly sweet and so delicious. It is definitely worth doing again.

Calling it a miracle is maybe not the right word. Dictionaries define miracle as being supernatural. I cringe when I hear reporters use the word when a little investigation would reveal a rational explanation for what they say is miraculous. After a tornado destroys a town, they’ll say it is a miracle that so and so survived when their neighbor did not. But what are they saying? That it is a miracle that the neighbor died?

Aspergillus oryzae, koji fungi, doing their thing over many months is hardly supernatural. As far as the fungi are concerned, I can hear them saying, “What do you expect to happen? Of course we’ll turn that mash of soybeans, barley, and us into something delectable. Just give us 317 days.”

It’s still wondrous. It still fills my heart with joy. It still tastes so good.

September 23, 2020
We Can Breathe Again

We can breathe again. Over the weekend cold fronts rolled through off the Pacific and pushed our smoke out of the valley. Gentle rains washed the air. Just in time for a satisfying equinox. With more rain in the forecast, we should be over with smokey skies this year.

The grapes are ripe. Every day until they are gone I can pick a bowl and give the chickens a treat. Chickens love fruit. A bowl of grapes makes for a happy day for them.

September 22, 2020