Spring is nearly two weeks away, and a few days ago ice blanketed our property. The temperature that day was, if memory serves, around 10 degrees. I define that as “winter.” So when I woke up late on Sunday and Chareva informed me daylight savings time had already kicked in, I expressed my enthusiasm with words like @#$%, and &*$%, and perhaps even %$#@.
I hate daylight savings time. The last thing someone geared to stay up late and sleep late wants is for the clock to spring forward. There are cruel people where I work who occasionally schedule meetings for 8:30 AM … which will now feel like 7:30 AM to my night-owl body.
I’ve heard the excuse for daylight savings time: more daylight during the warm months, more daylight for farmers, blah-blah-blah. A reader sent me a graphic that perfectly captures my opinion of that one:
I guess the Old Indian didn’t read Paul Krugman and learn about the “multiplier effect.”
Anyway, if you want more daylight in your day, get up earlier. Don’t make the rest of us pretend the ungodly hour of 7:30 AM is actually 8:30 AM. Or at least wait until May.
Despite my grumbling about the time change, Sunday did feel like a sudden jolt of spring just three days after a sudden jolt of winter. It was 60 degrees outside, so I decided to take a walk-around look at the property. And while I was walking around, I figured I may as well carry some plastic disc things and throw them at baskets placed around the land.
The baby chicks who arrived during the deep-freeze of a few weeks back don’t look much like baby chicks anymore. I’d swear they’ve tripled in size already. And we have another 12 due to arrive this week for Alana’s 4-H project. So Chareva was already out back, sketching out how she’s going to build two more hoop houses and create two big chicken yards around her gardens.
After my round of disc golf in the front pastures, I walked around the back of the property to survey the damage caused by two ice storms. Most of the damage looked like this:
Waste not, want not. Chareva decided we’ll cut up all the broken branches and use them to create raised beds for the garden.
The mostly-destroyed fence in the picture below was part of our pig-run, which I described in this post.
Probably just as well that we need to rebuild. We’ve seen the pigs push their way right under a wimpy fence like this, so when it’s time to shoo them into the trailer for real, we’ll want something more substantial. Chareva already experienced the joy of chasing runaway pigs from her garden (as in the picture below) back to their pen. I don’t feel the need to experience a repeat.
We’ve had tire-grabbing ruts in our driveway since we moved in, but the ice storms deepened them into tire-ripping canyons. We’ve been steering around them, which means slipping and sliding in muddy grass after a rain.
So late Sunday afternoon, Sara and I did some road construction. We took Chareva’s garden cart down to the creek and loaded it up with rocks and stones of various sizes. (Tennessee’s theme song is “Rocky Top” for good reason. No shortage of rocks in and around that creek.) Dragging a cart loaded with rocks and stones up the long, sloping driveway was real exercise – and we did it four times. We filled the canyons in the driveway with bigger stones first, then smaller stones, then rocks, then gravel on top.
Sara earned enough Cabin Cash for her cabin last fall, but now she’s into furnishing it. She currently has her heart set on a rocking chair for reading. So even though she didn’t ask for it, I told her afterwards that she’d earned more Cabin Cash for her considerable assistance patching the driveway.
Meanwhile, I earned my first-of-the-year taste of working myself into a state of Dog-Tired Satisfied. With all the plans Chareva has for the property this spring, there’s much more satisfaction on the way.