Another Day Has Begun

Another day has begun here on ______ . What’s your name suggestion for the homestead? Keep in mind that next year it will be in a different location within the North Georgia Mountains. I’d love to call it dk’s Green Acres, but that’s too easy.

Last year in March, I wrote 2011 Rambling Decisions. Unbeknownst at the time, the third scenario of moving to the mountains would be the decision. Here I am and the days roll on, getting busier and hotter, with more disasters and greater blessings daily.

Mae, the big 350, V8 (named after Mae West: “You only liveonce, but if you do it right, once is enough”) I bought for my journey from Chicago to here, sits on the gravel drive with a blown rod thanks to a mechanic with a shiny traveling shop but little knowledge. He replaced my leaking radiator with one fit for a Tonka truck. Thankfully, I found the excellent mechanic I’d met in June 2011 on that Pictureless on a Brakeless Day. He will tow Mae thirty miles, replace the engine with a used GM Goodwrench that has 33K miles, replace the radiator with one designed for a V8, and replace all the fluids for $1150, which makes his labor charge about $250. Huge blessing.

Out of ten hens and one rooster (Foghorn), I’ve only lost one. She’s in the freezer awaiting garden planting time where she will return to the earth and fertilize my veggies. Thanks to new friends, the chicken coop is just about done. It’s taken three weeks, but you can’t complain about free labor and even financial donations to the cause. The remainder belongs to me – sides, chicken wire, door, and fenced yard. I can do that. Probably though, not all on one day since the weather resembles mid-August instead of the first week of April. I cut the ½ acre lawn yesterday afternoon and reclined with a beer the rest of the day.

Sunday, the outside water faucet sprung a leak. I removed the knob to turn it off by the bolt. Unfortunately, the piping was all so very old, it broke off completely, spouting 3-4 gallons per minute of water into the temporary chicken yard, and the driveway. My neighbors and I tried to turn of the main line to the house, but not only was it sunk 3’ into the yard, it was surround by mud and slush. We managed to clear away enough to get to the line, but the valve broke off in our hands. There was nothing to do but shut off the well water to the whole top of the mountain. Finally, since my V8 was going nowhere, the owner came with a cap for the faucet. Yesterday, my front yard was a construction zone as the water main was replaced with new pipes, handle, and sleeve. It’s still 3’ underground, but attainable.

The moth caterpillars have hatched in the millions, figuratively. The Georgia gnats have never gone away, and while this picture may send shivers down some spines, it shows my constant battle, which at the moment, I seem to be winning. That could change. Cutting the grass loosed another million flying insects. Additional chore added to the list: making it snow in the mountains again – soon.

So given all that, the beauty, the strangeness, and the fact that this ‘spot’ is temporary, what say you to the name? Yes, it’s another day here on _______ .

First Day Outside

What I've found since I started planning this small, sustainable farm thing, is that you can talk to ten different people and get ten different answers. That recipe is for question-asking on any given topic. 

Chickens for instance, specifically, baby chicks. When we bought the babies at eight-weeks old one week ago, the employee at the feed store said, "No way. They ain't a'gonna be ready for no coop this weekend." Okay, the coop wasn't ready for them anyway, but he said I'd have to drop the temperature by five degrees a week until they were at the outside temp. They set up home in my office with a heat lamp. 

Sunday the heat lamp broke when I was switching them from the Tupperware tote to Mello's crate, and they didn't seem too upset. I left the overhead light on at night and sunshine through the closed windows during the day. I've not had the heat on for weeks now. The guy next door has his chickens hatch their own eggs and believe me, they are not in his house. Last time I went to look, they and the mama's were all shiny, plump, and very healthy. 

So, I decided that I'd take them into the sunshine and fresh air to clean the crate. Fresh water, fresh food, and they are happy little chirpers. I'm sure I'm doing it totally wrong, but hey, in all the Westerns I've watched - and I love Westerns - I've never seen chickens in the house, 'cept for maybe Green Acres. 

Of course, when my daughter was here last week she jokingly sang the first line of the Green Acres song and I finished it.