THREE DAYS WITHOUT RAIN

And all the tractors are out in the fields planting as fast as they can. Literally twenty-four hours a day – I hear their motors all night long Their headlights criss crossing back and forth like fat noisy determined fireflies.

I began to write the text for this last night and of course I spoke too soon and it rained in the night – but not too much.

And then I awoke this morning and thought it was Saturday! So I lay in bed for twenty minutes thinking about things.

Lordy!

There is a chook who keeps turning the light on in the chook-house. She must settle down to sleep next to the switch.

It is a big house and only used for sleeping but the addition of the Australorps has brought the addition to the chook house up. I am adding part of the rat house into the chook house. My Chicago helpers are coming down to build the wall in a couple of weeks.

There is heaps of roosting space but the little chickens always begin on this old patio table. It is a nice height for learners.

Now I must away to milk the cow. I am going to be twenty minutes late all day.

And it is Tuesday. Not Saturday. Tuesday is delivery day. Twenty two dozen chook eggs and seven dozen duck eggs. Every week. The amount the birds make now covers the vastly reduced feed bill. Perfect.

Have a good day.

I don’t think it was much rain. I bet the machines will be back out in the fields this afternoon. And a tiny gap – maybe I could cut a light field of hay- get it dry by Saturday? What do you think.

I will be back!

C

21 Comments on “THREE DAYS WITHOUT RAIN

  1. Celia, my heart so goes out to these farmers. It has done nothing but rain here too. How these farmers are going to get anything planted I do not know and how anything will even grow that requires sun I don’t know that either. My plants that are sun-loving are really suffering. Let us all pray that the sun decides to come out and that we do not go directly into a drought.

  2. Glad to see the tree house has survived, although shadow of its former self. I remember that wishful thinking it was Saturday when I worked. Perhaps that hen is hoping that somebody else will jump off the roost and give her more space. Yay for dry days. Laura

  3. That first sentence perfectly describes what’s going on round here, but for different reasons. The Crush has started, and all the cane harvesters are out 24/7, the cane trains are running to the mill, and there are lights in the dark fields. But by contrast, the rain we’ve had down the coast this year has guaranteed the best harvest for years; the cane is over 12ft tall in places, and thanks to the recent cooler weather, the sugar levels are really good too.
    I hope the weather and the luck change for your farmers, and for you. I wonder if you’ll catch up to yourself today! I wouldn’t be at all surprised if you manage it…

  4. Welcome to my days of confusion, Ceci ! Since I no longer work, it’s really hard to keep my days in order. Doctor’s offices, etc. with whom I have appointments call at least a day ahead to remind me – thank goodness.
    So many lovely chooks you have. One of our little ones whom we thought was a hen, has been practicing crowing. What a sad racket! Have a lovely day! – Sunny

  5. Forgot to mention how lush everything is in your yards. Positively beautiful! – Sunny

  6. Where there is blue sky there is hope for you for a decent summer yet. We have gone into winter dry with a forecast of dry. We pin our hopes on an unpredictable east coast low for the hope of precipitation.

    • Bad luck, Dale ! We had buckets for one night and half the following day with the most ferocious June winds I can remember. But it wandered out into the Trench methinks, meek as a lamb! Some more wet stuff a few days back from WA possibly . (Dale resides about 7-800 kms N of me ). .

    • Adapting to these new weathers take up some head room. Soon we will have to really focus on the new climate and make some hard choices. One being – should we be living in these impossible areas. Climate migration needs some careful planning

  7. The chicken reminds me of Daisy ringing the bell for you to come milk her. Or hurry up. Can’t remember which.

  8. The chicken reminds me of Daisy ringing the bell for you to come milk her. Or hurry up. Can’t remember which.

  9. City folk like me take it for granted that there is food in the shops, without thinking about where it comes from, and the struggles farmers have with the weather and such. This is one of the many reasons I love your posts – you educate me every time! Thank you.

    • It does become more apparent in an inclement season when we begin to literally use our reserves to feed the people. And so much is imported which gives us a false feeling of plenty. Watermelons in the early summer for instance – no.

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