Fort Bountiful is now completely enclosed—eight feet of deer discouraging fence, mounted to 4×4 posts sunk 2+ feet in the earth.
Tomorrow we will till the soil. Zeyda gave it a preliminary plowing with the tractor-mounted tiller, and tomorrow we’ll give it a more precise tilling with the walk behind, then planting begins later this week.
The Fort looks good, but it may have strained relations between the generations. The fact is, Zeyda and I are long accustomed to working alone and doing things our own way, and this has been a sudden crash of grumpy, opinionated old men. We’ll recover of course, but it’s an interesting circumstance to note.
It’s been really windy for the past couple of days, so windy that the hens didn’t even lay a single egg today. They truly do not like windy days. Little do they know that a new, (presumably eager) generation is closing in on them. I can’t recall if I mentioned this previously, but at the outset of this coronavirus panic, Safti and Zeyda decided that now would be the time to get back into the chicken business, so while others were out buying toilet tissue and beans (that they don’t know how to cook), they bought twenty chicks, which will soon take residence on this side of county road 35. As an aside, we heard a story on the radio this morning that chick breeders were sold out of product owing to the concordance of Easter and the coronavirus panic. I foresee an surge in feral chickens in the near future.