Today a shiny gigantic tractor trailer pulled into the farm with a Massey-Ferguson tractor strapped down on the trailer. Farmboy and Farmer Russ were all smiles. The tractor isn’t new per se’ but it is new to us and is in great condition. Isn’t it a beauty?

It drives me crazy when Farmboy and Farmer Russ are shopping for equipment. It seems as though they always have to drive to another state to find what they are looking for. This tractor was found down in Southern Pennsylvania and Farmboy has been anxiously awaiting its arrival so that it can be used for Fall harvesting/planting. The enclosed heated cab is also going to be very cozy when snowblowing the driveway this winter.

Every now and then I have to get into one of the tractors and move it or help with something. I have this innate fear of running into a building when I am behind the wheel. You know, a mental lapse… which one is the clutch?… which one is the brake?… oh no, that’s the gas!…. CRASH! It happens every time I drive a tractor. Not the actual crashing into something… just the overwhelming fear that I will.

The fellow who delivered the tractor was an interesting guy. Originally from Oklahoma now living in PA. Apparently he is like the Jesse James of tractor trailers. His “rig” was all tricked out. A chopper version of an 18 wheeler. Who knew? You could tell he took great pride in fixing up the 20 yr old truck. I was a little concerned about whether or not he could see over the dash board.

Just another day at the farm… ; )

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End of summer… LaLa is dying to get on that school bus for her first day of First Grade. The Bean knows what is coming and doesn’t mind the days dragging on.

Farmboy and I thought that a corn stand would be great for The Bean this year. His cousins who are older were also interested.  The boys made a table in June in anticipation of holding this year’s harvest.

It’s hard for me not to have visions of a giant festival of corn when a “corn stand” is mentioned. I think big. Why not? I like a spectacle, don’t you? Farmboy often wonders “why does everything you do have be a spectacle?”  I tried to stay out of it… really, I did.

I helped set up my art festival tent at the end of our driveway. The boys took the golf cart down into the field and loaded it with corn. I painted a couple of signs, put some tablecloths out and the boys were good to go. It was an interesting experience. Friday I found out that earlier in the morning one of the kids accidently picked field corn instead of sweet corn. Eeegads. Embarrassing. Especially when Farmboy encouraged his friends at work to stop in for some of the best sweet corn they will ever taste. Ooops. We had a discussion about “quality control” and how important it is to double check what they are selling for its quality. We weren’t sure how much had been sold. Farmboy made a few calls to let people know.

It was painful to watch as they counted change back to customers. The Bean made it clear that they were perfectly fine without me there. I took advantage of the situation to spend a little time in the studio to prepare for an upcoming show. La La and I spent the entire day on Friday making cupcakes for her cupcake stand. On Saturday the 1st Annunal “Windswept Farm Sweet Corn Extravaganza” took place. There was sweet corn, of course, lemonade, cupcakes and brownies, not to mention some tomatoes and cucumbers from my garden. Farmboy, Aunt Kim and I moved the stand further down on the farm across the street from the community recycling station – its gets alot of traffic on a Saturday morning.

The kids earned some money, ate alot of cupcakes and brownies and drank alot of lemonade. This year we have decided to let them bask in the money that they have earned. They have a taste of economics and we will hit them with the full picture next year when they have to think about how much a bag of corn seed costs and how much fuel is required to plant that seed. They are all ready talking about how they will make next year better and I am encouraged by their enthusiasm. There were a couple of hiccups- the field corn and a woman came back because she had only 4 ears when she purchased 6. Gasp. Blush. Embarassement. But they were apologetic and generous giving her extra because of their mistake. I wish that I had been taught the principles of business when I was young. I look forward to teaching the kids.

Next year all of those balloons are going to have to be put into their budget. How have you encouraged the entreprenuerial spirit in your children? Any creative ideas?

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Not long ago a stray cat started making an appearance at the barn. Three older kittens live there to keep the mice in check. They have all been spayed and neutered. The little orange, peanut butter stray is quiet and skittish but has warmed up over the past couple of months.

I am an animal lover- always have been. I’ve never known life without some sort of pet/family member. Growing up we always had a cat, dog and/or horses at some time or another. Both of my horses came off the local racetrack in the Finger Lakes. My gelding was a pitiful sack of bones. It took some time to put on some weight on his frame and get the steriods out of his system. He lives high on the hog now and his less than stellar racing career is a distant memory. Oh how he loves to run but that is another story… another post.

This post is about the whispy peanut butter cat that started to become very round over the past month. I told Farmboy “That is a Momma Kitty, she is getting ready to have kittens.” Oh dear. There are already three at the barn and we have three in our home. I feel responsible for this poor cat who was probably dropped off out here in the country. Our three house/garden cats all were adopted. Little Helen Chapel is sleeping beside me as I type. (Farmboy and I are “Wings” fans… what can I say? Didn’t you love Helen, those Hackett brothers and Lowell??)

I consider myself a responsible, conscientious pet owner. Somehow I think we have adopted this little orange peanut butter cat or she adopted us. We’d better get ready for the vet bills- as if 3 cats, 2 dogs and 3 horses aren’t enough. LaLa has been thrilled at the idea of more kittens. She is some sort of bizarre savant cat-whisperer. Our rough and tumble Pongo is a tremendous hunter- a very serious cat yet he sits outside of LaLa’s door at night and cries until someone opens the door and he can go cuddle up in bed with her. He watches TV with her and tolerates her packing him around on her hip like a purse. She is the only one of us that he seeks to be with. Toonces sleeps every night with The Bean. When he hears a story being read he is there purring in stereo. Little Helen Chapel sleeps with me and Farmboy at night and doesn’t stir until we head to the kitchen for coffee in the morning. Numerous days I’ve woken up with a “Helen scarf” wrapped around my neck.  We have our companions and all is right in the world at night.

I’ve kept a close eye on Momma Kitty the past week then two days ago I saw her- skinnier. I knew she had her kittens but there was no telling where they were. The next day we saw her take a kitten into one of the horses’ stall. We tried to keep her out but she would only run back in. After we brought the horses in that evening Farmboy saw her take a kitten in through a stall window.

She was determined to nest in the straw in the corner of my mare Paley’s stall. The other morning when I went to feed to my surprise there were four kittens. She was snuggled up with them in the corner of the stall. It cracks me up to think of my spooky Paley with a mother cat and nest of kittens in her stall under her nervous and watchful eye.

So far all is well. I turn into a child again when I go in Paley’s stall and sit in the corner with “Pumpkin” and her babies. The barn comes to life with the sounds of the horses quietly chewing and the busy sparrows flying in and out feeding their new babies. I’m amazed all over again at the circle of life- the beauty and the tragedy of it all. That little momma kitty is a skinny pathetic thing but she is sweet and starved for a caress and a tender word. She is always there with those furry, yawning, hungry, eyed-closed kittens. Soon their eyes will open and they will start to explore their environment which makes me nervous. The plan is to get them out of the stall. I am afraid they will get stepped on. I hope she won’t keep taking them back to Paley’s stall once they are moved. We will see.

I think she is a keeper. We’ll have her spayed and she’ll have a permanent home where she’ll be fed and loved and patted regularly. Hopefully we’ll find homes for the kittens… the kids and cousins will be disappointed. Maybe they will stay and we’ll have them fixed too… the kittens, not the kids.  What if another stray comes next year?  Where do you stop? I don’t know. I’m glad Farmboy has a kind heart. Who knew that Pumpkin carried a four little glass slippers- that we have found in Paley’s stall. Maybe she is a princess after all.

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It’s that time of year again. I am so ready. Spring has finally arrived in Central New York. Did I say that I was ready… that my mood is greatly determined by the temperature this time of year? A chilly day can make me feel down right cranky and completely out of sorts. I wait like a child at the top of the stairs on Christmas morning for those first bulbs to pop up. Sometimes its a challenge being transplanted from a warm climate to a cold one. We won’t go there…

Spring planting. It’s a busy time of year here at the farm. As soon as the ground is dry enough to work the harvesting equipment gets moved out of the way and the planting equipment starts to make an appearance. The plow gets new points, worn out pieces get replaced and the planting depth gets tested and set. When Farmboy and I were dating I often rode around in the tractor with him. Seeing the plow systematically slice through the earth and turn it on its end was quite an experience. I found it mesmerizing… almost hypnotic, artful and lovely. The soothing way that waves roll onto a shoreline, the waves of green sod would turn, roll, fold and come settling down upon itself to expose the dark loamy soil underneath. Powered by an enormous tractor, the plow cuts the earth like butter. Smooth. Clean. Almost effortlessly until an underground stone is snagged sending one of the blades springing up into the air with a loud bang.

I find it interesting- the beauty and simplicity of the process juxtaposed with the forceful way the carpet of the earth is sliced and then exposed. It is harsh yet graceful. From a solid carpet of green comes a textured pattern of umber. Down folds the sod, full of nitrogen to fertilize this year’s crop. Up come the grubs, worms and bugs- a feast for the birds following behind.

I told Farmboy that I wanted to photograph the process and he suggested making a short video which I thought was positively genius since it would show the action. If you look closely you will see the vertical rotating wheels in front of the end blade slicing into the surface leaving a clean path for the crest of the dirt wave. I hope you find it visually interesting. Double click on the image below to start the video.

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Gracie and Oliver swimming at the pond yesterday!

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This little painting is a study from a photo that I took at the farm two summers ago. The farm is laid out in strips to prevent erosion when plowing and fitting the ground. As an artist my eye is drawn to the patterns that are created by alternately planting different crops in these strips. In this image the fields of wheat are starting to turn golden and the oats have a lovely bluish-green haze. The undulating hills create movement. The little barn is perhaps too stark. Maybe I’ll push that back into the tree line a bit and bring more definition to the foreground. We’ll see!

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Oh the trials and tribulations of a woman trying to talk a grown man into chicken ownership.  Unfortunately, Farmboy has particular “attack the egg-gatherer” poultry issues from his childhood. I like chickens, I think. My grandmother had them but I was always too scared to go near the coop because their sharp claws and beaks gave me the willies. But… that was then and this is now and if you haven’t already heard… chickens are all the rage. Conceptually, I LOVE the idea of having chickens! A groovy little hen house near the garden… maybe one of those nifty chicken tractors that we can move around the lawn. Are you feeling the chicken love?  I already have two topiary chickens. Henrietta and Rocco- boxwood topiaries that welcome visitors along our front walkway. They, however, do not lay eggs nor do they contribute to the fertilizer production for my potager.

One sunny day last year after church I convinced Farmboy to drive to a nearby town to check out a “gypsy wagon” that I had been keeping my eye on.  A gypsy wagon, you ask?  Let me explain.  As a child I grew up with a lovely book called “The Knobby Boys to the Rescue” by Wende and Harry Devlin . It told the story of a group of domino-playing, fib-telling friends (a fox, a raccoon and a crow) that found a baby bear who had lost his mother. One day while Crow was out gathering food for the baby he saw a Gypsy wagon with a very sad Mother Bear tethered nearby. Fried Feathers! She had been captured to take to the circus! Needless to say, the Knobby Boys devised a plan to scare the gypsies and save the bear. It worked and Mother Bear was reunited with her baby and finally sang the long, winter-lullaby to him. A happy snow-covered ending.

The wagon from the book

What does this story have to do with chickens you are wondering? For many years Farmboy and I drove back and forth through the Finger Lakes between Skaneateles and Rochester, New York.  Just outside of Auburn, New York there was a little grouping of houses with a rounded wooden wagon parked in a nearby field. It was very plain but it was in the shape of the wagon from the story. Years passed. All the while I kept my eye on that wagon. Years, I tell you. Do you see where I’m heading? Chickens… a cute hen house…. a movable chicken tractor… a strange fondness for gypsy wagons… do you see the beauty? Isn’t it one of the greatest ideas ever! Why didn’t I think of it sooner?

So, that beautiful Sunday morning last year I talked Farmboy into driving out to where the wagon was. He agreed (for some strange reason) that a gypsy wagon would make a cool hen house. Maybe it was because of a church “high”, or perhaps it was a “support your spouse’s “special” ideas even if they sound crazy sermon” that brought him to this chicken openness. Certainly the fact that you can move the gypsy wagon around the farm was a selling point, right?… am I right?  The kids were excited and let me tell you, I was ready to make an offer. I was SO close to having those fancy chickens walking around the yard laying those fancy pastel-colored Easter Eggs that I could TASTE the egg salad!

Would you believe that it was gone? Can you believe it? I still can’t! For all of those years I passed by that quietly decaying wagon thinking that it would always be there. I even mentioned it from time to time. “Michelle, what would make you really over-the-top happy for Mother’s Day? Your Birthday? In general? “Well, a pony and a gypsy wagon, of course”!  Even before I had “THE Great Chicken-coop epiphany” I was drawn to having a gypsy wagon.  Now, here I sit- lamenting the loss of the wagon, hence, my future chickens. What is a future home chicken farmer to do? For some reason Farmboy is open to the idea of chickens if there is a gypsy wagon involved. What is up with that? Maybe he realizes the impossibility of me finding another wagon.  Maybe the supernatural aspect of this is- if God miraculously provides the gypsy wagon, Farmboy would go into such a deep state of spiritual chicken fondness that he will overcome his poultry issues? No counseling required!  I trust that it will all work out and that I will soon be tweeting about having to go feed the chickens, hatch chicks or something all chicken-y like that.

So, if a gypsy wagon happens to fall out of the sky near you-  please call me. I have the perfect place for it. I promise I will not tether any chickens to it nor will I make them perform any ridiculous circus tricks if I can help it.

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