A day at the farm

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Last week Paul noticed that our compost pile was not composting (largely, I think, because he insists on leaving the top off so rain can get in, which is fine, but then animals get in there too and eat everything.  Plus it doesn’t heat up, which accelerates the composting process…one of the first things you learn when you are a camp counselor on Catalina Island and need to compost almost all of your waste…WHATUP CIC COMPOST BINS!)

So since worms weren’t showing up in there naturally, he decided he needed to add them.  He did some research and found out that the worms you can purchase online are a.) too numerous (you get like hundreds at a time), and b.) don’t always arrive alive.  So he decided we should make a trip down to the thoroughbred farm where his sister lives and dig up some red wigglers (yes, that’s the kind of worm we needed, and why he couldn’t do this in our own backyard, I’m not sure.)

So, on an absolutely beautiful Saturday morning, after a long run, we hopped in the car, cardboard wormbox in tow, and took a drive out to the country.  And what greeted us as we arrived?

Babies!

The baby horses are out and about, with their knobby knees and scraggly fur. They are really frickin cute.  This one above was a ham, he loved to pose.

Anyway, we got to the house and were greeted by the Westies…

…which Spike was pretty happy about.  Paul got his box and we all went down to the river…

…to go worm hunting.

Success! (we got more than that one.)

And, of course, one of the best parts of going out to the farm:

What in Gods name, you might ask, are they?

Miniature donkeys.

As far as I can tell they serve no function other than entertainment.   They are pretty mean (why is it funny when little things get angry?) and will bite, so watch out.  They also actually go HEEHAW when you bring out food.

When we got home we went out to the compost and found it…already composted!  Paul switched his beer into a new carboy last week and had (unbeknownst to me) dumped all the yeast into the compost.

Surprise!  Basically overnight the yeast had decomposed everything.  Now we have some nice clean soil for the worms to play in.  Oh well.

For some more pics of the farm, go here.

South-facing window

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We’ve been talking for a while about trying to get a jump start on spring planting.  Considering how erratic the weather has been, an indoor approach seemed like the best way to go.

Basic steps for starting seeds indoors are: plan which seeds you want, get seeds, plant seeds in little pots, and put them in a south-facing window.

Unfortunately, our only south-facing window is already dominated by another force.

We talked about hanging something from the window frame, moving the couch over to the right and trying to squeeze some plants on the table, even investing in a heat lamp and starter kit…but all of these ideas were shot down and the conversation kept veering back in the direction of a greenhouse.

You might remember the multiple greenhouse battles we lost last spring that resulted in our not knowing where anything was planted.

For me, that was enough.  I had written off homemade greenhouses in the spring in Kentucky.

Paul, however, is not as easily deterred.  He also still refuses to spend money on these things (see: birdfeeder), is home more than I am, and tends to take on projects like this with gusto.

And so, meet south-facing greenhouse 3.0:

Apparently, with a few bricks holding it down this one is INDESTRUCTIBLE.  We already have some herb and tomato seeds in there.

Considering we’ve only had 38 tornadoes touch down in the state this spring…I’m sure it’ll be fine.

Brew

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It’s that time again.

For my sister’s wedding over three years ago Paul (and I, kind of) brewed, bottled, and made personalized labels for about 120 bottles of beer.  Paul hasn’t brewed anything since we moved to Kentucky.

Until this weekend.

The grain.

The malt.

The hops.

The 5 gallons of American IPA glugging away in the corner.  The house filled with warm grapenut smell.  Paul’s rants about Reinheitsgebot.

Yum.  It’s good to be back.

Sprung?

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75 degree sunny days.  Nighttime thunderstorms.  Blossoms blooming like woah.  (The pic is from my Sunday morning run.)

We had tornadoes in January followed by mini snowpocalypse in March, so I’m not deluding myself into believing that this weather will stick around.  But I have a nice little sunburn, our house is spotless, and I’m heading into a recovery week.  I’ll take it.

Spring is wonderful.  Get outside.

Biking Buddy

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SwimbikerunbikeTRXrunyogabikeswimrunTRXbikerunyogaswimrun…these are how my weeks are starting to feel.  Fortunately I have someone that keeps me company when I’m on the trainer at home.  But he’s not happy about it.

St Anthony’s in creeping up in about 6 weeks, and Hawaii is less than three months away…

Onward and upward.

Blastoff

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We have an upgraded birdfeeder.  Courtesy of Paul.  Let’s see the squirrels get up that thing.

So soothing to look at.

Update: Oh. My. God.  This would have been so much better.  Who doesn’t need a squirrel-tracking sentry water gun.

Day of Rest

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At 7:30 on a Sunday morning the streets here are completely empty.  More so than anywhere else I’ve lived (welcome to the Bible Belt).  NO ONE is out.  I see more cars at 5am on a Tuesday.

So every Sunday I drag my butt out of bed kind of early for my long run.  There is something about running down the middle of the road, on your own, as the sun comes up.

It’s gonna be a good day.

Give me some Bass

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There is a new varsity sport coming to Kentucky high schools: bass fishing.   In addition to bringing up some good questions (including, how does one become an elite bass fisherman?) KY Sports Radio commented on a tweet someone sent out suggesting that UK’s bass fishing chant should be “C-A-S-T, CAST-CAST-CAST!”  Good one.

At least it’s not noodling.