Pink Moon

There’s a pink moon rising over Skunk Hill tonight.

Pink Moon
Pink Moon
Pink Moon
by Nick Drake

I saw it written and I saw it say
Pink moon is on its way
And none of you stand so tall
Pink moon gonna get you all
It’s a pink moon, yeah, pink moon
Pink, pink, pink, pink, pink moon
Pink, pink, pink, pink, pink moon
I saw it written and I saw it say
Pink moon is on its way
And none of you stand so tall
Pink moon gonna get you all
It’s a pink moon, yeah, pink moon

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Winning the Lottery

We got a new flock of chickens today. They’re pullets and will eventually grow to be laying hens.

We got them at Rural King in Fort Wayne. Rural King had a wide selection of breeds to choose pullets from: Buff Orpingtons, Australorps, Jersey Giants, Light Brahmas, Auracaunas, Lace Wyandottes, Rhode Island Reds, and Barred Rocks. By the time we picked them out I was totally confused as to which ones we ended up with. I can say with confidence that we have 15 new pullets of some but not all of the breeds listed above.

At Rural King they have the chickens in oblong watering troughs. That is an eminently practical thing to hold baby chickens, because if there are corners the chickens will pile up in them. We pointed out to the helper at Rural King what kind of chickens we wanted and she would scoop them out the trough and put them in a box for us. The little chickens dashed everywhere in the trough, trying to avoid being caught.

I thought, “Don’t try to get away, little chickens. You don’t know it, but if you’re caught, you’ve won the lottery.”

They’ll get a full life here, good feed, clean water, fresh air, room to run, dirt to peck.

Kind of like being born in America to parents who love you. You’ve won the lottery by no action of your own, just by the hand that scooped you up and dropped you into this spot.

Winners
Winners

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Burn it, Burn it Good

We burned all our native plantings areas today. The weather was perfect, the wind was out of the east (away from our house). The ground is still saturated so we didn’t have to worry about catching the muck on fire [1].

Before
Before
Burning
Burning

Owen always follows the same path through the high grass. He’s trod it down until it’s so firm it wouldn’t burn.

Corgi Trail
Corgi Trail
Burned
Burned

Can’t wait to see what does and doesn’t come up after burning!

1. The muck is high organic matter soil. It’s what they cut into turves and burn in their stoves in Ireland. If you get it burning in the fields that’s a bad thing.

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March 1st

The view off of our porch on March 1st.

Looking West
Looking West

Sure is pretty. Hard to imagine the first day of spring is less than 3 weeks off.

If you turn your gaze a little lower, this is also the view off our front porch.

Owen the Snowdog
Owen the Snowdog

Owen loves the snow and cold. It makes me want to burst into song.

Sung, of course, to the tune of “Frosty the Snowman”

Owen the snowdog was a jolly happy soul
With a stubby tail and a pointy nose
and two eyes that saw your soul [1]
Owen the snowdog is a fairytale they say
He rolled in the snow but the children
know how he bit them all one day
There must have been some magic in that
old collar they found
For when they placed it ’round his neck
he began to bark and growl


1. Yes, I know I’m rhyming “soul” with “soul”. This ain’t fine poetry, or even country music.

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3 Sisters

I planted my 3 Sisters garden today. The 3 Sisters are the technique of planting corn, beans, and squash all together and they all grow together without competing.

The 3 Sisters Patch
The 3 Sisters Patch

I planted rows of sweet corn, the white open-pollinated corn I got from Sam Taulbee, and sunflowers. Then I seeded squash, pumpkins, and pole beans in the rows with the corn and sunflowers.

This will all be without herbicides since I don’t know what I could spray that wouldn’t kill one of those things I planted. I hope our tiller keeps running all season!

Spenser helped me plant the garden. Mainly by digging a huge hole in the ground.

Hard Working Dog
Hard Working Dog

And when he got tired of digging, he followed me up and down the rows. He’s a hard working dog.

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Zoolander and the Ten Commandents

Just hanging out, a Saturday night, watching “The Ten Commandments” on an Easter Eve.

All of a sudden Debbie blurts out, “Zoolander.”

Me, startled out of my reverie, “Zoolander?”

Debbie replied, “‘Zoolander’, and ‘Coming to America’, don’t you see how derivative they are?”[1]

I love my Debbie. The things that she says never ceases to amaze me.


1. “What???” I said. “It’s like when you’re painting,” Debbie said, “sometimes it’s just a really pretty green.”

What???

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Many Gifts

The stack of books beside my chair tonight.

The Bookshelf
The Bookshelf

A nice stack of books for a cold evening when winter refuses to yield to spring, and a pad and pen to take notes.

Top background, “The Virtues of Ignorance.” A powerful group of essays on the limits of knowledge. Underneath, Debbie’s “Bullfinch’s Mythology” (speaking of hubris).

Top foreground, “Dear Editor” by Amy Newman. Haunting modern poetry, a gift from sister-in-law Kathy. Then Virgil’s Georgics. It’s just what I hear at modern farming conferences, except it was written in 29 BC. And on the bottom “The Lover’s Dictionary.” I got that for Debbie two years for Valentine’s Day. Like most gifts, I got it because I thought it was cool.

Actually, all of these were gifts. Thank you all.

So many good things to read…

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