There's a man at the doctor who complains of his sudden urges where he will start singing at the top of his lungs. Hmmm... the doctor says, it sounds like Tom Jones syndrome. The man asks if it is very common.
The doctor sings: it's not unusual.
Today the Netherlands have a new King. Long live the King, strange to say King, it has been 130 years of female rule. Koning Prins Willem Alexander van Oranje, his birthday is April 27th, 1967. A year and a day after mine. He has a beautiful wife, 3 daughters, and his own kingdom. No sense in comparing myself to the Jones but I too have my own kingdom, 2 dogs and 2 tractors. Suck on that Willem! The Dutch national color is orange, so therefore this. Long live the king.
More unusual things: my mother and step mother here at the same time. Unusual. The toilet paper inventory management has to be adjusted, pronto, and oops, or maybe I should have gotten up sooner.
And then this, I have never in my 47 years of dreaming, dreamt a smell. I was dreaming, snoozing if you may, and I smelled garlic, fresh roasting garlic. I was sleeping in the bus, no garlic around, no one baking it, and I swear my olfactory glands sent the signal. Color, sounds, feelings, flying, swimming in dreams, sure, but a smell?
Joey calls to ask if I want to buy any day old Cornish Cross meat birds. The husband of the milk lady had made a trade: 1600 day old chicks for something. Delivery: now. His wife can't be too happy with that deal. Oh no, doghouse! Those things are voracious eaters, they need everything, and they need it now. Talk about highly perishable goods. And shit, I can just see where this is going... Just what I don't want to mess with: more chicks, bet they are cheap and, most unusual, the longer you wait the more expensive they will be to buy.
The weather.... not unusual, just screwed up. 88 and T-shirt weather today, and Thursday, drizzle and 50.
Steve Wood, he who could, sent me the coolest birthday present in the mail: a Coleman lamp, made in April 1966, it has a glass light cover and it arrived in one piece. Seriously impressively packaged. Thanks.
The greenhouse management is a big challenge for me these days, there are piles of transplants, and they look really good. But with the sun coming in and out it can go from 50 to 100 degrees in a couple of hours. Watering is critical, and yesterday it slipped some some and all was wilted to a pulp. I tried to mask my incompetence by blaming others for not paying attention, but no, manning up, biting the bullet, instant watering and praying and bettering my life. They did perk up, but the water stress inducement will cause plants to bolt very quickly now.
Roger came by out of the blue and has been working on the little cabin. Shows up from Columbia with a truck full of tools, and he just settles in and starts hammering and cleaning away. First night he moved in, it will never be a Hilton, but It may just get ready to house a volunteer, or two, to futz around here.
And then this local friend came by and parked his ass on a riding mower, and it sure is starting to look nice. The grass, not his ass, that is.
Making strawberry picking crates for the near future and now off to the races and going to get more chicken feed.
Richie died. 'd Been listening to his songs again, this time on you tube. A few years ago I heard he was playing in Salem of all places, regret of regrets I didn't go. I did have delusions of grandeur of having him play at the farm one day, just because I could. But now just his presence left, but his memory is digitized: what a beautiful graceful man.
Ma and stepma are coming, actually they are here now Friday the 26th, on my birthday. They did it on purpose so I can remember to pick them up from the airport. Ma was missing a page on her calender and now she is here for 4 and a half week instead of 3 and half, it runs in the family. But I sent son Pablo to drive, while he still can. Children are such a rude payback for your own youth. Pablo's world is getting smaller and he is starting to run out of road, maybe he'll see the light and come and help his parents out. "He wants to work hard and be outside". Well be my honey and pick me some berries. The duch word for harbor is "haven". so maybe the safe haven of Wil Farm can be a place he can build his life raft. We'll see.
Saturday really was a good community farm day: friends, acquintances and new friends to be made, and customers and gardeners and Kim Carr stopped by, she did a really nice write up. I think I f you click on the link it could work; http://gasconade.countynewslive.com/content/2013/apr/26/look-inside-%E2%80%93-wil-farm-%E2%80%93-hermann-mo
My birthday has been in progress for days: Roger showed up and took it upon himself to restart the Hilton Cabin, so it is in phase two of a major upgrade. Nathan showed up and didn't mind sitting on a mower for a couple of hours and Karen got some kick ass signs painted that are adorning hwy 19. Got in touch with Modot and now I will have to clean up 2 miles of highway, great idea Pieter.
Ate the first strawberry from the tunnel, more to follow shortly. Been selling eggs left and right and got some left, (like 500 or so). Wet as Holland here, thanks for the foresight to get raised beds in place, got at least a little bit planted, mostly in the spinach/lettuce/peas department, isle 13. Anyway, no news, just good news.
Waking up on Wednesday can be such a treat: my paying work, which I still really enjoy, even after 9 year, is out of my hair again for 5 days, and I can focus on this farming enterprise. But where to start? I wake up, three dogs in the bedroom. I get one foot out of bed, and see the pile of clean clothes, neatly stored in a heap on the ground, waiting for relocation, walk through the "office", small seedlings needing water, the greenhouse plants are coming up and need some water, the house definitely could use some tlc, the sign needs painting, grant progress report has to get in the email, I would like to get some more signs painted, eggs need selling, potatoes are in the cooler and will get in the ground, but not by themselves, another grant to write. And what do I do? Write a little blog, guess that is where I start. But first let me have a glass of wine to celebrate Wednesday.
Actually, by Saturday things are looking up:
here's your sign: you can lower it with pullies and change out the boards.
Still blank but I can see all kinds of texts on there. Got the waterlines that had broken and started leaking this winter replaced, and got about half of the chickens in the tunnel. Grazing as it were. They don't like arugula. May have to mow that down myself. In a days time they have eaten 20 pounds of spinach and lettuce, seriously thin runnings, but who wants to hear about the consistency of chicken shit?
And on it goes: I have a clean email inbox, when was the last time you didn't have anything in it? Sent of the SARE hoeing hen grant report, (see elsewhere on the site). Did write another grant for the WWOOF, called Wil Farm is going private, looking for an outdoor shower and toilet for the volunteers, you never know, and am getting ready to till some soil, probably way too wet, but feel like sitting on the tractor and getting it ready.
So... yes, feeling blessed. Not looking forward to pooching it, but if it would happen today, and you would be happy, that is something isn't it.
And the algorithm for the day: if you have a dog that is sick and that you care for and want to help, how do you do that when it bites your hand?
Pieter Los, born in Scotland, raised in the Netherlands, lost in the USA. .