Tuesday, November 6, 2007

love is in the air

It's breeding season here at Baba Capra. We've got to figure out how to get the smelly bugger here. I hope he isn't too bad-tempered, but he probably is. The Male of the Species tends to be that way, no? Not always, which is why we love Bobcat so much, but usually they are nasty, foul-smelling reprobates.

We did some more manure transfer on Saturday, so it's smelling awesome out in the yard. I love those goats. While I was pitching the manure over the fence into the wheelbarrow they kept coming up and rubbing their heads on me and trying to get me to pet them. Sure, they're in heat, but they're kind of like that all the time. Such personable animals. Traci is such a good queen, and I really hope that Edna turns out to be as docile as her mom. Finola, even though I love her, is a freaknut and I'm sure it would affect the herd dynamic if she became the queen. Tilde still doesn't trust us, but I think she'll come around. I don't know what we're going to do for a milking parlor next year, because we certainly can't afford to build a barn yet. I have such lovely plans drawn up on my graph paper for an L-shaped barn with hay and feed storage, animal housing, and a milking parlor all accounted for. It would be wonderful, but as our Rich Uncle Skeleton hasn't passed on yet, we've got to wait and figure out how to pay for it.

The hot water tap in our shower is kerploo, so I got to fill pans of hot water out of the kitchen sink and transfer them to the tub this morning and have a bath. It was just like being a pioneer! Except for the cholera and malaria and outhouse and no running water at all and no women's suffrage and various other minor differences.

We also got most of the garden spots tilled on Saturday, at least enough that we can plant all the early, cool-season crops and till the rest of it once it warms up enough to plant the squashes and other heat-loving plants. I'm so excited for next year's garden. I think I might try potatoes, because I love them so. I am truly a product of my birthplace.