Farm life is not a new experience for me. I grew up on 100 acres in Alabama and helped my parents in the garden early on. Yet moving across the world to land that has sat unused for years, in the middle of a national forest, no less, is an experience. What type of experience?
Well, for starters, it’s difficult. My husband is a city boy, and he has to learn with the help of friends, family, and every expert he can find. He refuses to relax in his retirement and has Energizer Bunny energy, rising at sunrise even after going to bed the night before at midnight. His main goal is to grow wine and have a place to relax. Since I know farming is hard work, I’ve, for the most part, kept my thoughts to myself.1
The land has to be rehabilitated as the topsoil has been depleted and the ground is as hard as granite. Truckloads of “natural fertilizer” (read goat, sheep, and cow poop,) have been added in layers over the entire acreage. This summer, we are waiting for the rain to come that will soften the ground a bit before adding yet another round.2
I have asked for a small square of ground of my own to set up a no-till garden. No one I’ve found so far in the area thinks of carbon when gardening, and does not consider no-till a method of soil building. While they can teach me a lot given how lush the fruits and vegetables are here year after year, I have a lot of things I want to plant next spring and want to do it without needing to till. I have no desire to weed the garden at sunrise next summer when the weather is too hot.
The photo below is the land just after the first round in the first spring of 2023. While the bees were happy, no one else was, particularly with the thorns that popped up almost immediately once the ground was warm. From a distance, it looked like a lush green meadow. Here’s the closeup.
My husband planted fruit trees and those have been growing very well, although we are worried that the ground is so hard after eighteen inches, that their roots will not be able to break through. Worrying, however, about what a plant will do is like watching paint dry. We’ll get there when we get there. Life on a farm most certainly teaches you patience. (Notice I didn’t say it teaches me patience.)
This spring (2024) we added more bee happiness. Again, the bees were ecstatic, but no one else was, having to do farm and construction work around so many bees. Needless to say, the honey this year was spectacular. We are leaving most of our honey in the hive for the bees this first full year, given that the poor bees we received were not very strong. After a good spring and summer, though, I feel that this part has been a success, thanks to the village beekeepers who are teaching my husband every trick possible for healthy hives.3
So far this summer we’ve had a visiting horse (a cousin’s) to test whether we want to add a horse to the farm. (The answer is yes.) We also have had hunting dogs visit from a friend. These two below refuse to leave, so I think we have permanent dogs.4 Time to fatten them up a bit.5
The horse that will appear in two weeks is also a retired racehorse from a cousin. My goal is to make him as fat and happy as the cousin’s white horse below.
Most people here do not use fences for their animals. They let them roam around the mountains like these guys below. I have to keep our gate closed at our driveway simply to keep the goats and cows of others away from our orchard.
So for now, the horticulturist has visited and the grape vines have been staked, waiting on the fall when the trellises will be installed. What you are seeing, according to my husband, is the 2024 Arbutus Hill Cabernet. (Not sure how you can make a bottle of cab with two bunches of grapes, but I’m sure he can find a way.)
So for now, the grapes and bees are happy, the chicken, duck, and guinea hen coops are ready, chickens and geese arrived, and the horse corral is done. A limoncello toast to my husband’s very hard work.
I will never forget the look on my husband’s face when I told him the guys building our fence had just burned out the clutch in their car trying to climb the hill. “How can you tell?” “From the smell.” Living in Alabama on a farm and attending a high school where the guys were all car nuts has finally given me an advantage. Fun fact: my high school testing showed I was supposed to be a car mechanic, not a lawyer. I probably should have considered that.
I refuse to be here when that happens. Ever smelled that much animal waste? I will be traveling. Bangkok sounds good about that time, as far away as possible. At least it isn’t chicken poop.
Did you know bees get fleas? And they get diseases under their wings?
They currently have ridiculous names, so they will have to be re-named soon. It’s hard to call a dog that roams the forest with no name, especially when you cannot whistle.
As I look out the window today, the pup in the photo to the left has filled out and you can barely see her ribs. The other dog is pregnant. Does anyone want a puppy this fall? Yes, we know the father. They will be boar/jackal hunters like these.
The learning curve sounds intense! Good for you. I look forward to more updates.
Beautiful photos. I can imagine it's hard work but very rewarding to live on a farm. I respect people who have that lifestyle. Very neat you're growing grapes!