Sunday, June 19, 2011
Rose by name
This is a quiet weekend around the farm. Aimee is off to a conference in New Mexico, although not near the brush fires, but at the other end of the state. I have a long to-do list, but with a busy week ahead, I'm not working very far down it.
The sheep went onto the New Paddock this morning, while I cut some firewood out of their main enclosure, the Back Forty. That left a bunch of ash and birch branches with lots of delectable leaves on the ground, so I was sure to let them back in as soon as I was done with my trailer load of wood so they could chow down.
Then it was time for a hoe-down. With only one of us here since Tuesday, the garden had been neglected most of the week. It took a good couple hours with the scuffle hoe to get it back in shape.
The potatoes, onions, and Aimee's lettuce are all doing fine, but the tomatoes haven't really gotten going yet. The nights haven't been that warm. Tomatoes won't really get a move on until the nights exceed 60 F.
That should come soon, with the advent of July.
Here's one of my favorite garden plants, the Rosa rugosa outside our front door.
I think it's actually two different bushes because there are both white and pink flowers.
Either way, it's pretty. I love roses, and hope to have quite a few more one day.
Our peace and serenity was shattered when the phone rang this afternoon, and a lady with a pronounced southern accent was on the other end of the line.
She wanted to know if our surplus ewes were still for sale, and if so how much did they weigh and how much meat could she expect to get off one?
At least I thought that was what she said. Like I said, she had a thick accent. I don't always understand southerners that well, whether British or American ones.
We do have an ad on Craig's List and on the Maine Sheep Breeder's Association web page, for several of our two and one-year old ewes. We have too many sheep for overwintering, and would like to part out our flock.
I explained fairly gruffly (I'd been woken from a nap) that they were not for sale except for breeding purposes. She was disappointed and whiny. I hung up on her.
A few minutes later the phone rang again. The same voice on the other end wanted to know, right off the bat, if our ewes were "for sale for meat, since the last guy she spoke to wouldn't sell her any."
I explained as patiently as I could that I was the same guy.
"Well, what're you doing with two phones then?"
I was too dumbfounded to hang up again.
Finally, I told her to read the ad, where it says clearly, "Animals will be sold to well-managed farms only, for breeding purposes only, not for meat or lawn ornaments."
Then I hung up.
There are two reasonable explanations for this telephonic visitation:
1) This was a crank call, and someone is winding me up, or
2) This was a really stupid person.