With all the conveniences of this era, lots of us don't need to think about getting ready for winter -- except maybe checking the antifreeze levels in the car and putting away the lawn furniture and making sure the outdoor spigots are turned off. We farmers are not like homesteaders of old but we do start getting ready for winter on about September 15. It's a three month process, mixed in with the regular joys of autumn.
For a couple of months, we took out the summer crops and planted the winter cover crop in their place. The fields are all protected by a nice blanket of rye and radishes and crimson clover and winter peas. While we stay warm by the fire, those plants will keep our soil in good shape. Both farms were planted on time and are covered in green. That was our first priority in getting ready for winter.
Today feels like the first day of winter. It is actually snowing. Jon is out there in the snow, trying to finish up just a couple things, seeing if he can get some more tractors under cover. Some of them have been sitting outside for months and will not start up when he pushes the ignition switch. He comes from up North and he likes winter and snow. I would have given up on that tractor storage project by now.
Three months ago we started digging the sweet potatoes and we were careful to make sure they never got below about 50 degrees so they would last all winter. We have a small stash in the secret room, an insulated closet with a space heater. Those sweet potatoes should stay cozy until we finish selling them in late March. In the walk-in cooler we have bags of carrots and radishes, all washed and snug. There are onions and potatoes and rutabagas. It's like being Laura Ingalls Wilder, but with electricity.
All of the high tunnels are filled with plants. Just yesterday Olivia put in the last lettuce and chard babies, and a few days ago Carrie planted the last spinach. There are six tunnels in Loudoun and three here, settling in for a few months of quiet. In the last few days, Jon put the ends and doors back on the tunnels and put the supports in the middle, so we won't need to worry about them collapsing under too much snow. Over the years we have learned what makes the tunnels the most attractive to all the mice and chipmunks and voles and now we try to make the conditions just a little bit harsher in there. In our earliest efforts, we thought we should cover the ground with plastic for weed control and cover the plants with row cover, but that just ended up creating this irresistible sleeping bag and the animals moved in and ate everything. Now we let it be much colder and bleaker, with no cozy hiding places. The plants are hardy. Every day Carrie and Ciara, on their respective farms, open the doors in the morning and close them in the evenings so there will be fresh oxygen and not too much dampness inside.
There are still five Christmas trees out there in the lot, and we switched to self-service after last weekend. In a few days, they will all be gone.
The chicken houses are empty, the pigs have gone back home, and there are no outdoor creatures in need of attention. Way back in the old days, we had so many animals to feed and clean up after. Lani still does. I do not miss hacking chunks of frozen silage out of the silage pit and hauling the bushels of steamy pickled corn leaves to the steer. I do not miss carrying buckets of hot water from the house to the chicken house, to thaw the chunk of ice in their water bucket. And I really don't miss milking the cow on a slushy, freezing morning with her disgusting manure-slimed tail swinging all around, trying to smack our faces while we hunkered down to milk. Having a farm with no animals in the winter is just perfect.
Oh yes, we have started the season of filling the freezer with venison. There are deer hunters on the farms who provide us with enough meat for the year -- but they bring it in large, peeled quarter-deer pieces. They do the hard part, dressing the deer in the field, and we do the kitchen part, taking it all apart and grinding the meat. Our kids have never wanted to participate, generally making themselves scarce when they see a counter full of red meat and blood and sharp knives. It is a laborious process, taking the animal apart and removing all the in between bits that are not tasty. We were taught by Roger that we absolutely cannot grind up any of the white parts that are between the muscles. Those have to be carefully excised. Jon fills tidy vacuum packed packages and we stack them amongst the packages of frozen corn and spinach and chicken soup.
What has not happened, as we get ready for winter, is a plan for getting away from home for a bit. This will be the first winter in a long time when we didn't get to see something very different. Even ten years ago, when Jon had his bone marrow transplant, we hit the road and drove to California on the way to Hawaii. This winter we will be like everyone else, hunkered down, waiting for spring. It feels good to be all tucked in for the next few months, but it would feel excellent to see a new horizon. Next year in Jerusalem. That's the dream.
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