Best crop ever

So Groceries is now a sailor, Big Ag is a proud Navy papa, and I have Empty Nest Syndrome. Actually, I'm almost over the last part, it does get easier after awhile.  But all the kids are moving on to life's next adventures, and I'm happy to see them finding success in life.  Possibly the best crop I ever cultivated was this batch of next-gen people I raised.

Losing our #1 farmhand

This week Groceries will travel to an area military induction center, get a complete physical, swear his oath, and join the Navy -- for four to six years.  He's decided to study nuclear engineering care of the military, and (pending the successful outcome of his physical) they are anxious to have him.

And while that means the start of a great life adventure for him, for us it means not only the final  (assuming we get no rebounds) emptying of our nest, but also the loss of our strongest and most dependable farmhand.

In a rural environment, strength counts.  Right now I'm in the process of moving two cubic yards of enriched soil into our raised beds to bring them back to being full (decomposition and runoff all deplete the soil levels of raised beds and chicken compost alone is not enough to keep them full).  It's not backbreaking labor, which means it's something I can accomplish on my own.  For heavier jobs, I will usually ask Big Ag to take over.

I've got this. But other farm-upkeep tasks are beyond me at my age.

But there are other chores which require two strong men, and in that area we are going to be missing a farmhand once Groceries departs for points unknown.  So right now we are trying to get what we can accomplished.  The barn quilts need to be finished so they can be hung. (They are quite heavy!) The chicken run needs to be moved so I can finish painting the coop wall behind it.  These are not things I am strong enough to be much help with, and so we're figuring out what needs to be done before we no longer have Groceries and his strong arms and back with us.

After this, I'm not sure what we will do when we need an extra pair of hands.  We have neighbors we can ask for help, and there's always the option paying a professional to do the things we can't (something we probably need to get used to doing as we get older).

But there is no question that aging on a farm presents challenges.  Everyone loves the archetypical story of the little old 80 year-old lady who still manages her own property, butchers her own chickens and turns her own garden, but the reason we marvel at stories like it is because it's relatively rare that anyone can really do that.  Especially if you farm, by the time you reach 80 your body has endured a host of injuries as well as just the breakdown of your body from age itself, and so it's not wise to assume how you feel right now is how its always going to be.

And so as we ponder the potential departure of our middle son, we realize we will not only miss him being around the house -- his great sense of humor, his calm and dependable nature and willingness to help out -- but also his strength, his common sense, and his youthful enthusiasm to get a job done.

But nonetheless, I say with a heart full of pride: Anchors away, my son. Anchors away.

Filling in for Big Ag

Big Ag has been sick with the flu all week long, so today I will be going out to dig holes and plant our ollalieberry and blueberry bushes and Seckel pear tree I bought last week.  Normally, we have something of a division of labor around the homestead, where Big Ag does much of the heavy lifting and I do all the other lighter tasks. 

Digging holes in this caliche soil of ours requires a fair amount of upper body strength, which I do not have, at least not in abundance.  I can walk up and down hills for days collecting produce from our property, spend long hours juicing pomegranates and making preserves, hang wash and such, but I'm not good at the heavier types of manual farm labor.

But when one half of the team goes down, the other has to fill in, and this is nowhere more true than on a farm. You just can't pile everything on the absent co-worker's desk until he/she returns. These bare-root berry bushes and trees we got won't wait until Big Ag is well, any more than the chickens can wait to be fed, watered and cleaned out when I'm down with a cold or flu.  More than quarterly sales reports or weekly staff meetings, there would be dire consequences to blowing off or postponing what needs to be done here. So we each have to be able to do the other's tasks, in a pinch.  

We do have Groceries, our middle son, living with us, so it's possible for him to help, too.  But since Groceries attends college and works when he's not in class, the weekends are about all I can count on him for.  I guess if Big Ag and I ever went down with the same bug at the same time, Groceries would be doing our chores in the darkness of evening, after he returns home. One thing's for sure: With a farm you have to always be sure there's someone around to cover the chores, or lives (animal and plant) will be lost. 

The good news is that it's supposed to be 70 degrees and sunny today, so I at least will have pleasant weather to go out and be a manly farmer in.  Now excuse me while I belch and fart and get my masculine side going here.