a man and his hoe

every day is a good day

Author: theMan

  • It’s a Good Day in October


    It’s a good day in October that starts with fluffy clouds drifting across a blue sky, and ducklings who come scurrying out of the hoop house to greet you when you open their door.



    The compost pile is breakfast for Claire and her ducklings. They bury their heads in the pile to gorge themselves on what they find.



    It’s a good day in October with the beginnings of yellow maple leaves high in the trees.


    For Claire and her ducklings, it’s a good day in October when I give them a generous helping of okara to gorge. It’s manners out the window for the ducklings. They use their bills to gobble so well, to dig in the earth, to slurp when they drink. It makes me want a duck bill. Humans would be so much more interesting if we all had duck bills. We could make so much more noise when we eat.



    It’s good day in October that ends with a cool swim. The ducklings are making the most of their new pool. It’s long enough to paddle across, deep enough to go diving, and for ducklings, hours of fun.

  • Tread Lightly


    Not having a Thursday farmers market to prepare for gives me time to start work on neglected forest trails. There is always something fascinating to see in the woods, like these mushrooms, squeezed between two logs. The chickens have taken chunks out of them, and lived. Is that a sign I can eat them too?


    Out in the woods, Russel and hens are inspecting my work. Normally we hear his high pitched warning cries frequently, but this morning, he was so quiet, I wondered if something had gotten him. But there he was, deep in the woods, guarding the Silver Laced Wyandottes and young Buff Orpington who have taken a liking to him. In the deep brush, the chickens can eat all day, hidden from hawks and eagles flying over head. It’s easy to see that their ancestors were jungle fowl.



    Back in the garden I do see that ducklings eat more than slugs and bugs. They aren’t against taking bit bites out of kohlrabi leaves, snacking on arugula, or foraging through sorrel beds. Everything comes with a price. If losing some greens to slug-gorging ducks is what it costs to have these predators of gastropods, so be it. It’s better than chickens who shred garden beds to smithereens with their feet and leave the slugs alone. In comparison, webbed feet tread lightly over garden greens.


  • Summer To Smoke


    On a calm, sunny October day, we light a pile of brush accumulated over the summer. Sweet smoke billows up like incense. If I close my eyes, it seems like I am at a temple in Kyoto, savoring the soothing fragrance of a thousand sticks of incense. If I listen, the crackling of the brush sounds like monks gossiping.




    It’s time to plant fall vegetables. These are cabbage seeds. Seeds are wondrous packages of information and energy. All the wonderful things humans have created don’t compare to what nature has devised in the way of seeds. We owe our existence to these tiny bits. Maybe by the time the iPhone M arrives, centuries from now, it will self replicate. After a year of use, it will produce a seed which you plant, and six months later, you’ll have a handful of shiny new iPhones you don’t need to purchase, and the old iPhone you’ll compost with the fall leaves.


    High above, ducks and geese are making their way south. The joy of working outdoors this time of year is hearing migrating fowl coming from afar. Sometimes they pass just out of sight. Other times they fly directly overhead. It won’t be long, maybe three weeks, four or so, before the first of the swans arrive to spend the winter among us.

  • End Times, Beginning Times


    It is the end times for the tomatoes. A week or two and they will be all gone. The next Sungolds I pop in my mouth, I need to close my eyes so I can remember all winter long how sweet they taste. These are too good to take to market. Since I can’t buy anything like them, I want to savor each one. It’s a sad truth for those who like to buy produce at Farmers Markets, the best produce the farmers keep for themselves.


    It’s the end times for Claire and her ducklings. At times she looks ready to be with the other chickens. Each night I keep debating whether to take her back. When I do it will be a new beginning for the ducklings, on their own, and caretakers of the garden, doing their part to banish slugs forever. They are making their first timid forays out of the hoop house and into the garden. I am impressed with their fondness for all things slugs. There are none too small, none too big for them. I heard that ducks like slugs, but it wasn’t until I saw them slurp them down, that I understand the truth of that statement.



    One of the weeds I am tossing into the compost pile has the most beautiful, delicate flowers. I’m pretty sure it is a weed, because the black berries that their seeds are turning into do not look like anything I planted this year. Though if those black berries are fruits with tiny seeds inside, I could be mistaken.




    Daikon are worth growing just for their leaves. Not only are they pretty, they do wonders in a stir fry or in soups. You can also pickle them. They have enough fiber to flush your bowels clean as a whistle. A heaping plate of daikon greens, and you’ll be able to poop like a cow.


    The end times are approaching for the sunflowers. Each time I see them, it’s like Van Gogh has taken his brush to the garden and gone mad, painting a splash of orange from here to there.


    The treasure of spending a morning in the garden, is a bounty of produce for a hearty, fall soup. Soup so fine, it could only be served in fine china. I swear, no one for a hundred miles around, had a fine a lunch as we did this lovely, first day of October.

  • A Sigh of Relief


    The first tinge of reds and ochres is coloring the leaves. So much beauty is just around the corner, and I don’t have to go anywhere to see it. Every morning when I step outside, there is a bit more color on the trees and bushes. It makes the cooler weather worth it.



    The rosemary bushes are breathing a sigh of relief that summer is over and the farmers markets will soon be over. They are tired of me snipping away at them all summer. I am on their shit list for sure. They probably fantasize of swatting me away with their branches. Who knew rosemary bread would be such a hit and that I would need to snip so many rosemary stems? To ease the burden on the rosemary bushes, I’ve planted several new rows of rosemary plants. I guess you can never have too many rosemary bushes.