ten days

Let's talk about rain a little more, shall we? And/or we can look at some pictures of cheering things. You pick.

Because yesterday, when it was balmy and pleasant, the forecast for the next ten days was for no rain. My heart leapt!

A stretch of ten dry days would make a world of difference in the paddocks, which for the past few months have looked - no joke - like a scrap pile of lumber exploded in a sea of mud. Also, with ten consecutive days of dryness, long-postponed projects requiring time outdoors, like the annual 2-day cleaning out of the workshop, or putting multiple coats of paint on a dozen wooden items that have been gathering dust: such things could be done and joyously crossed off my pre-Winter list. So exciting! I could even draw outdoors every day! I can probably count on one hand the number of times I've sketched outdoors this "summer" without being driven indoors when rain started again.

Just before bed every night, I mark my calendar with tasks for the next day. Last night, I also decided to take a screenshot of the 10-day forecast, because it made me feel so happy and hopeful and energetic.

Guess what. The forecast had changed: the first three days were now Heavy Rain.

This morning I went out at 6 to start the chores while the goats could still move around without standing in rain. Hastening through the morning round, I finished a bit after 8. The rain had started falling around 7, which means I enjoyed - and I really did enjoy it! - the single not-raining hour of this absolute deluge of a day.

When I did evening chores tonight, it appeared the goats had all sheltered early, which is good. But the amount of water that had already fallen - over 3 inches since 7 AM - is making even places that are usually dry, wet. There was no chance at all of shifting any goats between paddocks tonight, and they'll be okay where they are til morning, but then what? My gosh, I don't know how long this can go on. I never could have imagined keeping animals in such conditions. I would never irresponsibly choose to keep animals in these conditions. Yet here I am.

It's disheartening, to say the very least. To bend all one's efforts to keeping animals healthy and happy, day after day, year after year, and then to fail so very badly.

According to the latest forecast, this heavy rain may stop sometime tomorrow afternoon. Maybe it will. Who knows. I am slowly getting it through my noggin that there is just no point in expecting  anything but rain.

But so far, every time the sun shines, 

I still find myself hoping the worst is over.

~~~~~

beans yesterday, beans tomorrow

Well, my guess was correct. 

The beansalad days are indeed over for the year, though lingering vines are still holding on to their beans.

These yellow Romano-type beans, which I don't intend to plant again, are being picked as soon as they start to feel papery, and brought in for further drying, and shelling. Maybe they'll be nice in a soup this Winter.

The last few French filet beans, yellow and green, are being left to dry for seed. They are my long-time favorites but some years it has been impossible to find seeds for the varieties I prefer. Letting them dry on the vine has always been tricky due to Autumn rains, and of course this year, all bets are off regarding weather. Maybe we'll have a very dry Autumn. Who knows? It's raining right now. Anyway, I'll leave them on the vine as long as possible, and hope they don't rot.

When I planted beans this year, the newly-purchased seed looked disappointing, so I dug into my seed box and planted lots of saved bean seed from previous years as well. Thank goodness I planted heavily. What with the weather - apologies if you are sick of hearing about the weather - and my sorry excuse for a trellis, I consider myself very lucky indeed to have harvested enough beans for many bowls of beansalad. Which was just about the only recognizable feature of "Summer" in 2023.

Next year, though? I'm already working on it.

Vincent 1885

~~~~~

saturday review

Possibly the final beansalad of 2023:

With crumbled sharp cheddar garnish.

The most recent example of my lifelong gastronomical experiment loosely titled:

Seriously, what would NOT be improved by adding either cheese or maple syrup?

And you may be thinking, "why not both?" to which I reply, "yes, sometimes!"

The sharp cheddar crumbles certainly enhanced my customary salad of yellow and green filet beans, garbanzo beans, and white kidney beans.

By the way, does anyone have a recommendation for cooking dry kidney beans instead of buying canned? I tried cooking dry red kidney beans in a kettle following the advice on the packet. It took ages - and I had to stay nearby to frequently stir the pot and check the texture of the beans - and I think I still managed to undercook them. Next time should I try pressure cooking?

The grapes have been very productive this year, and I've enjoyed walking under the vines even in the rain.

Earlier this week I went down to the terrace garden with a grocery sack and picked grapes between rainstorms. Of all the tasks I've managed to sprint through between rainstorms this "summer," picking those grapes was my favorite.

To me, grapes are like coffee: the aroma is arguably the best part. Have you ever discovered the presence of wild grapes by the intoxicating aroma? One of those experiences that has probably been providing thrills for humans for as long as there have been humans and grapes in the same ecosystem.

My kitchen smelled wonderful for a while. With a big kettle of grapes simmering on the stove every time I came in from outdoors, it made the rest of the situation in my house seem less overwhelming. Or at least easier to ignore. And now I've got a tub of juice in the chest freezer, and a jar in the fridge that I'll be sipping like wine.

We've just had two days of simply lovely weather - not too hot, not too muggy, not too buggy...not raining. And between the usual round of chores, instead of tackling a few of the extras that have piled up with the wet weather, I spent part of each afternoon just lounging around outside with a sketchbook, keeping an eye on the animals while they kept an eye on me. It was glorious.

~~~~~

keeping busy

September is galloping right along, isn't it?

At the start of the month we had a stretch of several days without rain - the first such stretch this summer - and my neighbors made hay on Labor Day weekend. (That sentence may have needed an Irony Alert. Haying is pretty dang laborious.) Anyway, it was their first cutting of 2023, which is just staggering. I've noticed that in-person conversations about hay and weather have one common feature this year: at some point, each person just stops mid-sentence and throws their hands in the air. It's better than bursting into tears, I guess.

I've picked up 29 bales so far, in four trips with the Highlander. This is my very local family hay farm, right around the corner. I've been a regular customer for years and would be happy to buy all my hay from them but it's impossible, as they have many other regular customers. So in recent years I've bought hundreds of bales each year from another family farm a bit southeast of here. They will deliver and stack 50 bales per trip, which is a huge help. That farmer hasn't yet called to say they have baled a second cut, but I'm sure that during the string of dry days they were working "right out straight" as we say in my neck of the woods. So my fingers are crossed.

Because now we are in the middle of another 10-days-of-rain forecast. Literally in the middle. It hasn't rained constantly for the past five days, but we've had a couple of big storms and at least some rainfall every day. The deep, boot-sucking mud is back. When I felt that first tug on a boot after a few days without it, my heart sank a little bit thinking of how hard the goats try to keep their hooves dry, and how much I'm failing to provide that option for them.

One option that I have provided, and feel pretty good about: a chute connecting the Upper West Side to the little Pocket Paddock, between the driveway and the road. 

What the bittersweet looked like
before it met the goats.

I fenced this tiny paddock many years ago for the goats, but it turned out to be of very limited use. The biting bugs are even worse there than elsewhere on the property, probably due to a small drainage nearby. Also, there was no simple way to connect it to the upper paddocks. Each goat had to be escorted down - and later, back up - the entire length of the driveway, one by one, with a collar and lead. It's not that I minded the extra effort and time, but since none of the goat likes being taken out of sight of the others, these trips were fraught. I'll never forget the time LeShodu, that massive and stately Matriarch of Cloud Harvest Cashmere, suddenly yanked a lead rope out of my hand and took off down the driveway at a rapid trot, headed for parts unknown. Just the memory makes the hair stand up on the back of my neck.

Whew.

Deep breath. 

Back to now. 

Well. As the search for hay became more and more desperate in August, I realized that the gap created recently by the fallen tree provided a potential route from the corner of the terrace garden, down the steep bank garden, to the driveway. And if I moved the west side of the Pocket Paddock fence, which was parallel to the driveway, about 15 feet to the east, a couple of 16-foot stock panels could serve as a chute across the driveway. So, long story short - if it's not too late? - I had a load of stock panels delivered and that's what I did.

The view from the top of the bank garden,
across the driveway,
to the Pocket Paddock below.

Building a chute that crosses my driveway sounds crazy. Because it is crazy. I now have to muscle two 16-foot stock panels 90 degrees every time I want to take the truck up or down the driveway. It's crazy, but it's not forever. 

Bud and Mallow didn't have to be asked twice.

And in the meantime, on nice days, the goats have been introduced in twos and threes to the new chute, and have been making short work of the bittersweet jungle in the Pocket Paddock. We are all very happy about this. Of course, it's only an option when it's not raining and it's best if the foliage has had a chance to dry, so it's still kind of a treat rather than an anytime thing. But we all need treats. Yes, we do.

The nose of a happy goat.

Moxie has directed this project every step of the way.

Here she is on our own little Promontory Point, checking out the drop to the driveway below:

I don't know how a standing cat can cast a sitting shadow, but Moxie is a creature of many and mysterious talents.

~~~~~

shell game

#DrawingAugust on Twitter is over for another year.

I've drawn every day but have posted occasionally. I've been online only briefly in recent weeks, and some days not at all. With the hay situation, ordinary life requires many more hours of physical activity than my usual routine. And, happily, it's been mostly Not! Raining! for the past several days, which means spending as much time as possible working outdoors.

Towards the end of August I sketched a whelk shell using watercolor pencil.

Then another.

And another.

 

In watercolor pencil or in soluble graphite pencil.

Using two or three colors or tones for each sketch.

This one was last night:

I just wanted to share them with you.

Wishing you a happy Labor Day if you are in the US, and a very happy Monday if you are anywhere else in the world.

~~~~~