It shouldn’t surprise me. The signs are there.The leaves are changing. I finally put away the fan that has occupied the hallway for weeks and moved a space heater upstairs. The dehumidifier is in business once again. I should know it is October, but still, I’m surprised.
Other than a brief return to my old job as a nurse, I’ve been mostly off work for a year. (Before you think it has been all rainbows and unicorns let me remind you that 2011? Not so great really.) Wrist surgery recovery. Back injury healing. Dad with life threatening illness. Chicken infirmary in my basement.) Anyway- a year! A year away from a regular job-job. Among other things, this means that I haven’t written the date regularly for a year. Such a little thing. The date.
I can always tell you what day of the week it is. But what week or date it is doesn’t really seem to matter so much in my world. Season after season I’ve gardened in our space. I know the rhythm of the garden, what is in season, what to do. It is fall.
I don’t need to know what week it is to note a change in the weather that whispers “Hey summer gardener! Psst! Now would be a good time to add some winter protection if you are going to do it this year.” So, the Babylady and I put in new hoop houses. Fall.
The noticeable shift to morning darkness, as well as (seemingly) sudden dark evenings, beckons me to assess chicken coop supplemental lighting. Morning timer lights get reinstalled so the girls (fingers crossed) will lay fresh, rich eggs through the winter. Fall.
The date doesn’t tell me when exactly to plant the garlic. But it is in, safely tucked in fertile soil and blanketed with mulch. Other tasks completed as well. Summer crops pulled. Cover crop or winter crops in. Perennial beds weeded and mulched with straw from the chicken run. Fall.
The tomatoes are gone, the apples are perfect, and the kale is tall. Fall.
Want to come along for a walk?
This is the first time we’ve had molting hens. Molting is the annual shedding and regrowth of feathers. Hens will usually start doing this after their first year in late summer/early fall. It is very odd. All the feathers? They arrived in one day! Dust bath? Feathers flying. Scratch? Out goes a feather. She leaves a trail of feathers behind her. They are everywhere! Our polish hen, Calypso, is also molting and looks quite pitiful. Oddly, about the same time she began to molt, she also decided she should sleep in the nest box. I read that they might act strange during molt but I’m not sure this is what they meant. Who knows?
That is all from here- Happy mid-October!