A good portion of each of my days is filled with a mish mash of garden-related chores. The other day I spent well over three hours on my hands and knees freeing the peas from the most aggressive grass. I had to literally find the somewhat weak root base of the pea plant and then feel around for the pieces of grass that were choking it out. As I finally reached the end of the line, I was amazed at how much time had passed. I didn't mind doing this chore all that much -- it was intricate surgery and required a lot of attention to detail. These pea plants are well over a foot high and already sprouting pods -- I didn't want them to be pulled out by accident, so I was meticulous in feeling around for the right root to pull out.
This morning I went out to turn on the watering system, and lo and behold if those peas didn't just shoot up another foot. Freed from the stranglehold of that pesky grass, it was able to grow, and grow it did!
The raspberry patch is another story. I have weeded that area at least six times already, and there is about a quarter of the patch still left. The grass and weeds flourish in there like nothing I have ever seen, and while I have put down hay around the areas where I have already weeded (for the SIXTH time, I learn quick, huh!) I can't do that in the other parts until they are free and clear. It is as though the weeds are cemented in ... BRUTAL ... it takes hours to get the tiniest patch cleared. The heavy pounding of the rain we have had has made the earth hard ... each and every single piece of unwanted growth needs to be hoed or scratched out with one tool or another. I can squat and bend for a few hours, but then I need to shake it up. I have been dealing with a "weeding" injury for a few weeks now -- a pain that is reminiscent of sciatica that I can recall from pregnancies. Hurts like hell sometimes, then goes away completely for a while. Of course, me being me, I listened to a friend talk about her ordeal with lyme disease, and of course, many of her symptoms mimic mine (or I get them just hearing about them, not sure which came first, the chicken or the egg) and I add that to the fact that I pulled off a tic from myself a few weeks ago, and well ... I am convinced I have lyme disease.
But then again, I COULD attribute it to the fact that I weed nearly every day, and that is pretty brutal on the body. I keep thinking maybe I should STOP weeding to see if it will go away. But I can't! It will get completely out of control. As soon as I finish weeding one patio (we have three large ones) the other two need attention. It is safe to say I weed all the time.
This is all in an attempt to keep poison off the property. My husband loves poison and has, in the past, taken care of the patios with Round-Up. Which has always upset me, but then again, it is a tad exhausting doing it "the natural way!" But if I am going to have free-range chickens around, I absolutely DO NOT WANT poison anywhere. Period. And the only way to do that is to keep the patios weeded so he won't even get the idea to do it. (I caught Charlie using it on one patio not too long ago ... geesh).
It is amazing to me how many hours I have been putting in, between the chickens and the gardens (and the patios too!) I haven't had any time to write in the past few weeks (months?) and yet, I am constantly drawn outside, where there is always something to do. I keep the chicken coop probably a lot cleaner than most ... because for some unbeknownst reason I keep applying my own thoughts and feelings to the silly fowl. "Oh, I woudn't want to sleep on all of this poop, so it must be removed." I read how people don't do a thorough cleaning of their coop more than once a month, and I do it weekly, and I touch it up daily. Overkill? Perhaps, but there seems to be a though process that there are certain standards for animals and anything above and beyond that is too much. Our outdoor run is six by twelve feet, I believe, and is about perfect for the 16 chickens to run around in, and stretch their wings, literally. We have been told a number of times that they don't need that much room. But I think to myself, why don't they? They love it, every morning when I let them out they rush around in circles and fly and hop and literally get their ya-ya's out. It's a pleasure to watch them truly enjoy themselves. And every time I bring in a pile of weeds they clamor about in glee. Maybe most chickens don't have feelings, but mine do! I have gotten over the "I have no idea what I am doing," phase and feel quite confident that there is no one way to raise chickens. I even look forward to getting a new batch of chicks (in the future, no time soon!) and I know exactly how I will do it this time, and I assure you, they will NOT be in my house. I have no idea what kind of crazy people think that is the way to go, but it is not necessary if you have a decent coop.
And another thing I have decided to let go of is the concern about predators. Peter and I have done our best to create a fortress of a chicken run, and then I read that raccoons will chew through chicken wire. Well, you know what? I want free range chickens ... I have one chicken that does everything in her power to sneak out, and I am not terribly sure why I won't let her run to her heart's content. My vision is chickens wandering about, and keeping them locked up isn't part of that. I wanted the run so that when we weren't home they could still be outside and somewhat safe, but somehow along the line I've forgotten that my intent is for them to run free. Peter asks me daily when I am going to start, and my mentality has been so focused on protecting them, I've forgotten the vision. So next week I am going to introduce them to the big, free world.
I think!
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