With regards to my previous corn-growing failure comment, I thought I would post a photo of my neighbor's most excellent corn field (note the stark contrast!).
Although I failed to acknowledge the first day of autumn yesterday, I did spend the afternoon out of doors searching for early fall foliage (and investigating my neighbor's corn field).
If I could wax eloquent about the advent of fall without resorting to excessive sappinesss, I would. But I cannot. So I will not. Suffice it to say that after sixteen years residing in a geographic location with few autumnal changes, I almost am bemused to the point of flipping cartwheels up and down my driveway. Almost.
And cauliflower. And swiss chard. And kale.
And I'm rapidly running out of soil space despite the additional beds created (see previous posts).
Perhaps growing over one thousand seedlings has proven somewhat excessive, eh? One thousand is probably a low ball estimate while I have worked my way through three packs of 540 count 5-inch clear plastic cups. Plus there are three more seedling trays patiently awaiting my attention.
I suppose I could not resist when the seed company supplied me with a packet of 300 cauliflower seeds (estimating here for I did not count).
I think we need a greenhouse ...
so I disappeared tonight after dark and headed to the square of our small town for a few photos.
To view the full set (not all of which contain the moon), follow this link.
Lest one has the wrong impression that all proceeded perfectly for us as fledgling agripreneurs, take a gander at our poor, stunted corn patch.
Whether we blame the vagaries of late planting, overwhelming weeds, poor soil nutrition, ravaging wild turkeys and raccoons, low watering, or the fact the field lies a quarter mile walk from the house, this year's corn attempt did not fare well.
Better luck next year, eh?
Although these admittedly are not the best photographs (taken without benefit of tripod, in the dark, while balanced on a hill, dog weaving in and out of my legs, etc.), I could not resist at least a quick attempt to catch a shot while watering newly planted seeds in our terraced hillside garden beds.
Perhaps I will try again another evening.
Behind our barn a short distance through the woods stands one of the largest trees on our property. As I was cutting saplings last week, I passed by and spent a few minutes studying this giant and noticed something of interest.
Although somewhat difficult to see in this photo, there stretches parts of an old fence through this same section of woods, and this fenceline passes directly through this tree. Part of the wire protrudes from the other side.
Our first experimental section of terraced hillside has neared completion, and we'll soon ascertain the viability of our wattle fencing. This winter we hope to add plenty of compost and manure to begin leveling each section.
Two sections are planted with swiss chard, carrots, beets, and rutabagas.
And here is Attila the Hun, my project supervisor ...
This is our story, in real time and in photos. It is neither unique nor unusual nor extraordinary. But it is our story.