Righteous Bacon

There’s a feeling of finality in early fall in rural America; a lull between the heat of the summer and the hustle and bustle of the grain harvest season. I am one of those insufferable people who Love, with a capital ‘L’, the holidays and the first whispers of colder weather are always a welcome invitation to begin preparing for them.

This year though, there were no whispers. We went from eighties and nighties and high humidity to sixties at, what seemed like, the flip of a switch. We are surrounded by Black Walnut trees here; they’re always quick to shed their leaves, and they’re wasting no time in the task this season. Walking outside to a hail of gold fluttering through the air is always enough to put me in the autumn mood.

You might think that after so many years of the same thing, I wouldn’t be caught by surprise when it’s time to winterize the farm, but you would be wrong. It’s not that I don’t see it coming at all, it’s that — especially during years like this one — the time left always feels longer until we’re mere steps from the finish line.

A few weeks ago we had to send the ATV we normally use daily for basic chores into the shop to get some work done, and they’ve yet to make a final diagnosis. Now, as I make lists — both mental and physical — of all the things I need to get done around here before snow flies I am missing it fiercely. We have ways of doing everything without it, but not without added complications; which also means added time and effort.

The farm kids’ pleading for “a lamb for fair,” this summer means we’ve had Ferdinand the Ram with the ewes for several weeks now already. We have, thus far, only lambed in the spring and I have liked it that way. It’s warm outside, there’s plenty of lush grass for both lactating Mamas and quickly growing babies; it almost makes for a fool proof lambing season. But spring lambs aren’t old enough for summer fairs; only winter lambs have enough time to grow big and strong, and finish out. So we’ll try it. The principles of winter birth and newborns are the same across the species and we’re not entirely green even with sheep, but any farmer will tell you that theory and practice are not listed as synonyms for one another for good reason.

All of the pictures in this post are months old. Taken this spring when everything was fresh and green. Before it was ninety-five degrees and we hadn’t seen anything that could pass for rain in weeks. I had forgotten about them and normally wouldn’t bother with old photos in a new blog post, but then I thought, “why not?” In the story of this farm inconsistent blogging and forgotten photos have been a staple for the past year. They belong here as much as anything I snapped today.

I don’t remember the last time we mowed grass and I don’t foresee us needing to do so anytime soon. I forgot about the blueberry bushes I planted flanking the gate that leads from the back yard into the paddock that lies between it and the barnyard and only one of them has survived the heat and abuse. There is a fifty-fifty chance of a storm tomorrow, but if it behaves anything like all the other storms that have come our way it’ll break up just as it gets here, maybe spitting a little extra humidity into the air but never producing so much as a drop that reaches the ground.

Today the first lambs of our 2016 crop are fifty days old. Which means when the sun starts to set and the temperature abates by a couple dozen degrees we’ll be rounding them up and running them across the scale to see how they’ve done thus far, on nothing but pasture and their ewe’s milk. They look good; thick and stout and robust.

This guy will happily help despite the heat, and dunk himself in a stock tank of water straight from the hose afterward.

Of all the stock on the farm the heat is hardest on the pigs. Little ones don’t mind it so much, but the big sows and the growing feeders would prefer moderate weather and little humidity; something we can’t often provide in Michigan at the height of the season. Instead we make sure they’re misted down with cool water a few times per day, provided lots of fresh water. And, at least in the case of the growing pigs — for show or sale or breeding alike — hope they continue to eat, because no one likes a big meal when it’s hot.