The things keeping you from moving forward may not actually be the blockers you think they are. Keep going. Let us know if you need a push on the rump.

— Juliet, who sometimes needs a little help to remember that if she got in, she can probably get out. [And is very vocal about telling us she’s “stuck.”]

Here’s What’s Happening At Good Spirits Farm

Two days ago, Todd and I were talking in the kitchen when I looked out the window and saw a bee ball forming on the top of one of my hives.

Usually, a bee ball like this is a swarm. But we’re in the summer dearth, when resources are scarce, and the race to build up honey stores for winter is right around the corner. Swarming now would be a death sentence for the bees trying to set up a new colony.

“I gotta go look at what’s going on; be back in a minute,” I said, interrupting Todd mid-sentence.

What was going on was a major robbing event. When resources are scarce, bees will identify weak hives and try to break in. Once the word is out that there’s easy-to-get honey in a weak hive, it becomes a feeding frenzy. In the center of the photo below, you can see the bees brawling on the front porch of the hive being robbed. The ball of bees was by the back hive entrance, where a pileup of bees brawling had formed a ball.

On the ground below the hive was a graveyard of dead guard bees.

I grabbed my bee suit, a shim to close the entrance of the hive to just a tiny slit, and a bed sheet from the linen closet. Don’t tell Todd, but I used one of our good sheets because just last week we did a purge of stuff we don’t want to move and took the old sheets to the local charity drop-off. I got the sheet damp with the hose and threw it over the hive, blocking both the front and back entrances. (And making it look like Halloween.)

The sheet has slowed the frenzy, and in the next few days I’ll crack open the hive to see if it can be propped up with additional resources or if it’s best to merge it with another hive. Even though it’s 90 degrees here, a weak hive won’t have time to catch up before winter. As hard as it sometimes is to collapse a hive into another (which means I’ll either need to kill the queen myself or let the stronger hive do it), ultimately it’s better than letting the whole hive slowly die.

Oh, also, does anyone know what breed of chicken this is at my “pest-proof chicken feeder?” Never seen one with a tail quite like that!

Here’s What I Loved This Week

These busy little hands mean that I rarely get even a single raspberry.

But this week I went out twice after baby bedtime and picked enough raspberries to make Todd’s favorite: raspberry chocolate chunk ice cream.

And even though delayed gratification is not really Farm Baby’s thing…I think he found it worked out pretty well this time.

You are important, loved, and worthy of care—even at the most inconvenient of times. — Juliet, who only ever seems to have emergencies when a million other things are happening.

Here’s What’s Happening at Good Spirits Farm

Since the day she was born, when she was so small and weak I was sure she would not make it, Juliet has had more medical needs than the average sheep.

She’s my only sheep who needed a trip to the University of Tennessee vet school to get a set of special shoes for her wonky feet.

She’s the only sheep I’ve had who needed leg braces.

She’s my only sheep to ever get pinkeye. And now, my only sheep to almost get taken down by a parasite called liver flukes.

Last Friday night, after a long day of work and parenting, I headed out to check on the animals while Todd got Farm Baby ready for bed.

Let this be a lesson to all of you (and me): Never leave checking the animals to the last chore of the day, because when you realize you have to deal with an emergency situation, you’ll be doing it in the dark.

As I approached the flerd, I saw something off in Juliet’s face—a severe swelling under her jaw. Immediately, my brain went to bottle jaw, which is swelling caused by severe anemia due to parasite overload. It’s usually a sign you have just hours to save your sheep.

I have been lucky never to have seen bottle jaw before. I rotate my sheep and cows onto fresh pasture every 2-3 days, because it disrupts parasite reproduction cycles. By the time worm eggs in sheep poop hatch, the flerd has moved on, so they can’t re-ingest the newly hatched worms. But liver flukes are carried by deer, and they thrive in wet environments. It’s rained every day for the past three weeks. Of course it was Juliet who got them.

The moment Farm Baby was in bed, I marched back out to the field, slipped a halter on Juliet (the bonus of being the weakest sheep is that she’s also my tamest), and brought her back to the barn for treatment.

While I’d never dealt with bottle jaw before, I’d been warned about it enough times to have already purchased all the supplies I’d need for treatment. The only problem was that eight months ago, I’d reorganized my feed and equipment shed, and now I couldn’t remember where I’d stashed the stuff. You have never seen someone tear a room apart with such ferocity.

Finally, around 11 a.m., with our frozen-pizza-and-red-wine date night put on hold, I found the two bottles of missing dewormer. Juliet got a dose of each, plus a shot of iron and a shot of B vitamins.

All weekend long, I kept her in the barn, watching her closely. I must have caught her in the nick of time. She never got wobbly and weak, and by Monday, she seemed ready to rejoin the flerd.

The other thing about Juliet, is that, because she was raised in a house with a dog as a companion, she’s always been treated as a bit of an outcast by the rest of the flock. While they stick together closely, she’s often a few yards away.

After three days away, I worried they might not be kind to her when she rejoined. I’ll never forget her own mother (who, of course, had abandoned her at birth) sending her airborne with a head-butt when I first introduced her to the flock.

But I need not have worried. Juliet may always do her own thing and hang on the periphery, but the second I returned her to her friends, everyone gathered around her for soft sheep nuzzles.

Farm Update

A few months ago, I announced our plans to relocate, although we were still deciding where.

We’ve found our where. In late September, we’ll close on a property in Vermont. Our Tennessee property is officially on the market, and I’m beginning to work on the logistics of moving.

The plan is that all the animals will come. However, we’re not sure of the timing. No one wants to move a whole farm to Vermont a month before snow starts falling. Plus, we need to add some fencing and likely clear a little more land.

I’m excited for this new adventure. The property is near cycling trails, and the town’s public library offers a ton of kid-friendly programs. I know winters will be brutal and dark, and that the growing season will be short. But I’m currently working for a Vermont-based non-profit, and it will be nice to be closer to my colleagues. (Vermont also offers subsidized childcare, which was actually something Vermont businesses led the charge for.)

No place is perfect. I learned that in my 20s when I moved to Hawaii and found even paradise had its issues. I will miss many things about this current farm oh so much and will miss many of my neighbors. But I do love a grand adventure, and this certainly will be that.

Here’s What I Loved This Week

The sweet bliss of a 7-year-old raspberry patch. We can barely eat them fast enough, though Farm Baby helps tremendously.

For every three I pick and put in the bowl, he demands an equal amount for immediate consumption.

You’re doing clucking amazing! And whenever you need to be reminded of it, we’ll shout it again from the rooftops (or, from a medium-high bench, we’re not really that great at flying.). — Goldie Hen

Here’s What’s Happening At Good Spirits Farm

We have so many idioms about chickens, most of which make them out to be dumb creatures, but I gotta tell ya, these girls are constantly surprising me.

On Thursday, I looked up, and a single chicken was in the laundry room window, pecking at the glass. It’s a high jump for a chicken, and I’d never seen one get up there. A few minutes later, she’d moved to the dining room window. A second later, a friend had joined her.

Again, I’ve never seen a chicken get up in this window. Soon, there were three pecking at the glass.

We do sometimes get chickens hanging out at the glass door (which is where this trio moved next), but I’ve never seen them jumping 5+ feet up to a window—let alone three jumping up into two different windows. At the time, we all laughed about what they were doing and went about our day. About an hour later, though, I walked outside to take the compost out and realized the gals were completely out of water. It was a blazing hot day, and I realized: They were trying to get my attention! Bird brains? Hardly!

In other news, the Tennessee State Bee Inspector officially gave my gals (and drones) a clean bill of health last week! I can now sell bees. It’s so wild to me that four years ago I took over my ex-husband’s 6 hives without any real beekeeping knowledge. Now I have so many hives I have got to start sending some off to new homes.

And, the hot weather means the neighbors have returned for the summer! Go get those voles, buddy!

Here’s What I Loved This Week

Hannah Einbinder’s rant on AI in last week’s episode of “Hacks,” and the conversations with the writers who wrote that rant, have me feeling a little less alone in my absolute hatred of this moment in tech.

Being creative and having the ability to problem-solve make the human experience so much richer. Storytelling is integral to who we are as a species. I don’t want to lose the part of my brain that does the hard work of figuring out how to start a first draft, or how to fix a complicated narrative that isn’t quite working. I don’t want to burn up this planet and harm a community’s water supply, all in a quest to write a press release in 30 minutes versus an hour. I’ll never use AI to write this newsletter—because farming is the most human experience, and no algorithm could make up half the stuff that happens here.

LAST THING! Did you grow up on a farm? Does your family have a crazy farming story that you have always wanted to tell? Maybe a time when your grandpa rolled the tractor and walked away without a scratch? Maybe an uncle who bet the farm on a cache of emu eggs only to have the emus gang up on him? Maybe a two-headed calf you kept alive despite the odds? I’m looking for crazy farming stories for a new project. If you’ve got one, shoot me an email! ac.shilton@gmail.com.

You are regal.

You are dignified.

Even if you occasionally put your foot in your mouth.

It’s called balance.

— Puck

Here’s What’s Happening at Good Spirits Farm

If I had one piece of advice for new homesteaders and backyard gardeners, it would be this: plant asparagus. Do it first thing.

Right now, I should be up to my eyeballs in flats of spindly tomato starts and worrying whether my cabbages are too small to withstand the onslaught of cabbage worms. I’ve grown so used to marking the passage of time in farm tasks that I feel slightly disoriented this year of pausing garden operations.

But thank goodness for asparagus. A perennial that takes several years to establish, it comes up without fail in late April—even if I forget to douse it with compost (like I did this year). It’s giving Farm Baby his first experience of eating what he’s picked. He loves the satisfying snap of harvesting the spears from the garden so much so that I have to stop him from harvesting the tiny stalks that aren’t ready yet!

Because you can’t not bee-keep, the way you can pause a garden, I’ve been hard at work splitting bee hives, in an attempt to keep ahead of swarm season.

There is no fast way to do this. You have to pull the whole hive apart, assess how much capped brood and eggs are available, and then divide resources between what will become the new hive and what will stay behind.

It’s best, and fastest, if you can find your queen and move her to the new hive. That, of course, is easier said than done—especially if the hive is just bursting with bees. This pic is from a rare hole-in-one hive where the queen was on the very first frame I pulled. Can you find her?? (Hint: she is longer, and has a more caramel-colored, carrot-shaped abdomen.)

I got to this hive just in time, as they’d already started building a new queen cell for swarming. (It’s the peanut-shaped cup at the top of this frame.)

A healthy hive should split. But swarming is a nightmare to deal with. You never know when or where they’re going to go. Proactively splitting majorly reduces the time you spend chasing your bees around, trying to re-capture them.

Of course, I didn’t get to all of my hives in time. Last Saturday, I walked out to find two swarms just hanging out.

I got lucky in that both went to easy-to-get-to locations. Within an hour, I had relocated them to new hives.

The funny thing about this time of year is that, no matter how hard I plan, I never have enough equipment on hand to deal with all the new colonies. And so, at least for the moment, I’ve become the bee slum lord of Fentress County, using plywood and tape to keep these hives going.

Here’s What I Loved This Week

Gimlet, who has absolutely had it with Petey and Julia’s bullsh*t.

Spring, and love, is in the air. Last week, I went out to find that Gimlet had let herself out of the hotwire fence. I put her back in. She let herself back out as I was walking back to the house.

This was weird behavior. The herd was on primo spring grass, and she was moving herself into a section they’d already grazed. This wasn’t a grass-is-greener issue. After the third jailbreak, I grabbed a halter and led her in the barn, figuring I could keep a closer eye on her there, in case she was unwell and just not showing obvious signs yet.

The next day, she seemed fine, so I took her back to her friends. Then I realized the issue: Julia was in heat, and it had ignited an all-out love-fest. When cows go into heat, they’ll mount other cows. And, of course, the male cattle mount them. It’s just a lot of chasing and humping. Gimlet, who carries the dwarfism gene and is therefore much smaller than the others, was quite simply, tired of the orgy.

I put the halter on her, took her back to the barn, and let her wait out Julia’s wild heat cycle. Whomst among us hasn’t been like, " Wow, this party was fun, but now it’s getting weird. Please, I would like to not be here anymore? Relatable, Gimlet. Relatable.

You bring humor (and absurdity) everywhere you go. Stay true to your silliest self; stay absurd, you funny bird. [Also, hi, please let me in, I heard there are bagels.]

Here’s What’s Happening At Good Spirits Farm

Welcome, April!!

We lost all our peach and pear blossoms in a late freeze, and we may lose the apple blossoms this weekend. Such is life in the south, and I try to frame it as making the years we do get fruit extra special (although it’s hard not to dwell on the disappointment).

The yo-yoing weather has me totally unsure of when my beehives will begin swarming. The earliest they’ve ever gone is the first week of April, but it’s almost always around April 15. We’ve had several 75-degree days, which has the queens laying drones. This is a precursor to swarming, as mature drones mate with new queens. Normally, I’d spend this weekend splitting hives, but we’ve got rain and a possible frost on the horizon. And so, I’ve put out my insurance policy: Swarm traps.

These are boxes with a few frames of drawn comb, baited with a spritz of lemongrass oil, which bees love. The tiny entrance is the exact size bees look for when choosing a new home. It’s my first year using purpose-built swarm traps, versus just placing empty hives near my bee yards and hoping they’ll chose those, which they never do. Let’s hope these are more alluring! (And save us from the bee vacuum backpack up on a ladder situation, which is never very fun.)

We spent last week touring farms in Vermont. This one, which came pre-loaded with babas (Farm Baby’s catchall for chickens and ducks) was his winner by a mile… Unfortunately, our criteria are a little more complicated, and the hunt for the perfect thing continues.

Heebeejeebees says she’s not picky, so long as there’s a good spot for going Loaf Mode.

Here’s What I Loved This Week

Moving up north will put me within half-a-day’s drive of my two best college besties—with one in Montreal and one in Rhode Island. I took advantage of our farm-hunting trip to get in a girl’s weekend in Montreal, which included a lovely maple syrup street festival.

Music, maple syrup taffy made on snow, and maple bacon poutine—what’s not to love?

Big thanks to Todd for managing Farm Baby for two full days in a hotel room so I could have a little fun!

You are loved. Never doubt how much you mean to those around you.

— Heebeejeebies and Sonya Soto-Layor, who have been friends since they were itty bitty chickies 7 years ago.

Here’s What’s Happening At Good Spirits Farm

There’s something about spring’s arrival that makes me feel like I’ve been sleepwalking for the past few months—like I’m fully sentient for the first time in a long time. The birds are singing! The grass is turning from brown to green seemingly overnight! Our footless friends return!

Early warm days have also brought out the crocuses and daffodils. Farm Baby is obsessed with flowers, wanting to gently touch each blossom while tottering through the front yard.

The bees are waking up, too. I think it’s safe to say I’ve had a 30 percent loss rate over the winter, which is disappointing. The industry standard is 50 percent, but I’ve been proud that my rate has hovered around 20 percent. I’ll have to review my fall management strategies to figure out how to improve next year. For now, I’m leaving the sugar snacks in the tops of each hive for a few more weeks, until nectar starts flowing.

But: The coozies are off, and inspections last week showed new brood being raised in every single hive. We’ll rebuild this summer!

Most importantly, though: Thanks to a string of 70 degree days, everyone has a little extra pep in their step.

Here’s What I Loved This Week

Daylight! Somewhere in the past 10 days we tipped over the threshold for enough daylight to encourage even my old gals to get back to laying. We’d been getting 3-4 eggs a day. Then, on a random Tuesday, I walked out to find 14 eggs just begging to be made into a quiche. Look at these beauties!

You belong. Even if you’re an ancient African bird transported into whatever fresh hell this white stuff is. Your community is better with you in it. — This one really pissed off Guinea

Here’s What’s Happening At Good Spirits Farm

A few newsletters back, I mentioned that I’ve been worried about Nurse, who is thinner than I’d like for it being the depths of winter. (She’s on the left here.)

Now maybe my problem is that my favorite shape of sheep is round… (Juliet never misses a meal.)

But still: I thought a nice little dog blanket would be a good idea—especially with snow and ice in the forecast.

A few days before the last snowstorm, I went out to find Nurse having a nice sun nap. She was happy to just lie in the grass while I scratched her head.

Great! This is the perfect time to slip a blanket on, I thought. The second I came back, blanket in hand, she got up and took off like a rocket. So much for that idea.

The next day, as I watched the snow-and-ice forecast worsen, I knew I was going to need backup to execute. So I enlisted Claire, the teen who helps around the farm, to help. Claire is a world-class sheep wrangler, and together, we finally had success!

The great thing about sheep is that once you catch them, they basically decide to die. They almost always just lie down on the ground and give up. We slipped the blanket on and thought we did it!

Spoiler: We miscalculated.

The moment Nurse decided that she had not, in fact, died, she got up, felt something on her back, decided it was a mountain lion, and lost her mind. Taking off at a full gallop made the other sheep follow suit. This then made the cows run too, because what fun new game is this??

Pretty soon, it was mass chaos: Animals running everywhere. We decided our best option was to catch Nurse before someone got hurt. Working together, Claire and I cornered her. More sheep wrangling ensued.

With Nurse now naked, we went to plan B: Extra hay. Those rumens produce tons of heat as they ferment fiber.

Todd set two 1200-pound bales of hay set up next to each other as an edible wind break. (Eagle eyes will spot a certain oversized hat in its natural habitat.)

The coldest nights of the year have (hopefully) come and gone, and Nurse has fared just fine. A good reminder that we’re often heartier than we think.

Here’s What I Loved This Week

We’ve been watching Abbott Elementary and loving that it’s super low-stakes (I can’t handle a stressful TV show at the end of a stressful day), and has clever writing. Highly recommend!

Toughness looks beautiful on you, and your strength helps carries other forward. Together, we will continue to lift one another up. — Puck, who is really PUCKING over ICE.

Here’s What’s Happening At Good Spirits Farm

There’s a lot of background things happening on the farm that I’ve been reticent to share just because they’re complicated, up in the air, and when I feel anxious about things, I tend to avoid them. (Not my greatest trait.)

In December, I was part of a large layoff from my corporate communications job. Honestly, it was a blessing. For months, I’d woken up each day feeling ethically at odds with the work I was doing and the people I was doing it for. I’ve been lucky enough to score some contract TV production work, so we’re fine income-wise for now. Eventually, I’d love to find something with benefits again, but wow, is the job market dismal right now. So many resumes sent into the void! (Seriously, if you’re going through this, I see you, and I am cheering for you. So is Peaseblossom!)

I’m framing this career transition as a chance to work on some of the creative projects I’ve been noodling over but haven’t had the bandwidth to delve into. Perhaps it’s time to make that podcast??

Life update number two: We’re seriously considering moving the farm. Yes, the whole farm. For a variety of reasons, Tennessee no longer suits our needs. It’s amazing how a child changes your entire perspective on what you need out of a community. Selling this place, which I have poured so much time and energy into and fought so hard to save during my divorce, will break my heart. But, as I have learned over and over again throughout my life, wounds heal.

Most importantly, all of the animals are coming. Also, this move won’t happen until late spring or early summer at the very earliest. Fall is maybe more likely. A lot of pieces are going to have to fall into play to make it all work.

What this all means is that we’re in a holding pattern for new farm activities. I won’t start a garden this spring, and there will be no baby chicks. The only exception will be the bees. Healthy hives split when the weather warms, whether you like it or not, and it’s far better to split them manually than try to chase them down once they’ve swarmed away. But that’s the only major expansion work I have planned for spring.

It’s a bummer to put everything on hold, but I’m trying to see this as short-term frustration for long-term happiness.

Right now, we’re specifically looking at land in Vermont, though Minnesota and perhaps Western Massachusetts are also in play. With all these options, everyone will have to get used to this white stuff.

The chickens say, “Wow, no thank you, we’re moving to Florida.”

I truly cannot wrap my brain around the logistics of moving everything and everyone 15 hours north. How do you move 25 beehives? Twenty chickens? Five totally feral guineas and a flerd of cows and sheep? All while managing work (hopefully!) and a toddler? Woof.

At least it will be an adventure—and that’s how I’m trying to look at it.

Here’s What I Loved This Week

This is now a silken tofu stan account. Todd doesn’t eat meat, so for protein, we eat a lot of beans in this house…but sometimes your GI tract just needs a break. It turns out you can whir silken tofu into just about any creamy soup, and it boosts the protein content without being noticeable. I’m finishing off a bowl of corn chowder made with last summer’s frozen corn and silken tofu right now. (I still added most of the half-and-half the recipe called for, I’m not a total monster!)

You may be small. You may feel like you’re up against a giant. You may be 44 percent feathers and fluff. But dangit, that other 56 percent is pure toughness.

And when you’re backed up by your flock of mothercluckers, you’re unstoppable. Keep loving. Keep fighting. Tyrannosaurus pecks against tyranny, always and forever.

Here’s What’s Happening At Good Spirits Farm

One thing I like about running a farm my way (versus, you know, the profitable way), is that I can keep all of my old gals around past their “productive” years. The downside, of course, is that old animals require lots of care and fretting.

Two years ago, I was nursing sweet old Bennie through the snowstorms, including inspiring her to march her arthritic bones across 40 acres of pasture to spend the coldest nights in the barn. This year, it’s worrying about sweet Nurse, who has the most boop-able nose and just refuses to gain weight.

She has teeth! The vet said her worm burden was low! She’s just always been a slim gal. Now, age is exacerbating the issue.

I have spent every night this week trying to get a Veli-sized blanket slipped over her. Nurse, who is normally quite friendly, has spent the entire week convinced I’m trying to murder her. There’s been a lot of chasing and some cursing.

Veli says who wouldn’t want to be this kinda cozy??

Since I haven’t been successful, I’ve just been hauling extra hay out to everyone on nights when it dips into the teens, or the rain and wind make it feel colder than it is. Everyone thanks Nurse for her service.

Unfortunately, I have some sad news to share. We lost sweet Ruth Bader Ginsbird to a bobcat attack a few weeks ago. Ruthie was one of the sweetest chickens on the farm. She’d happily jump on the knee (or back) of anyone crouched down close enough to the ground for her to hop up, and loved to pretend to be the world’s chonkiest parrot.

She had the absolute best resting bird face.

And was up for anything, like that time we tried falconry.

She’d had a difficult last year, with a hard molt during the dead of winter and her left leg developing a bad limp. I was so impressed that she was still laying as of last summer. With that bad leg, she was an easy target, and a bobcat found an easy meal. I’ve put up additional fencing and been standing vigil at dusk—the bobcat’s favorite hunting hour. Hopefully, she’ll be the last casualty, but oh, what a loss her death is for the farm.

Here’s What I Loved This Week

If you’re ever looking for a work boot recommendation, I’ve got you. I am a boot killer. Seriously, I am hard on these suckers. Right now, my go-to boot is made by XTRATUF. I’m too impatient for anything with laces, and I need something watertight, so I can plow through mud without a second thought. These suckers last about 18 months with heavy use, which is the longest I’ve ever had boots last. (None of this is a paid endorsement, but, if you’re listening XTRATUF, my current pair is getting a little long in the tooth.)

The brand wormed its way even deeper into my heart when Todd found it had a new Sesame Street collab. And they come in adult sizes! Just look at these Cookie Monster-themed boots he got as a birthday present!

May we all always bring a little play and whimsy to our work.

You are gentle as a lamb, bringing the most important gifts of softness, comfort, and joy into this world. — Juliet, perpetual bringer of joy (and trouble)

Here’s What’s Happening At Good Spirits Farm

Normally, I winterize my hives the weekend after Thanksgiving. This year, we got hit with a cold snap in mid-November. It lingered and lingered. As November turned to December, I wondered when—if ever—I’d get a chance to help my bees prep for winter.

Unless it’s a true emergency, you never open hives in temps under 50 degrees, as cracking the tops lets out the stored heat the bees have been diligently working to produce. So, I had to simply wait and hope everyone would make it through until a warm day arrived.

Finally, this week, the weather topped 60 degrees: Go time.

There are two main winter killers for bees: A lack of food and the threat of moisture. Bees stay warm in a ball all winter, with those on the outside of the ball creating warmth by fanning their wings. This, of course, takes lots of energy. The warmth they create can also cause condensation to form on the underside of the hive lid. When this drips back onto the bee ball, it can knock out an entire hive in no time. Winterizing, therefore, consists of adding a moisture-absorbing layer to the top of the box and giving the bees an emergency stash of sugar.

This year I’m trying these new fondant patties, which have vitamins and minerals added to the sugar. Because they’re expensive and not that big, I covered the rest of the box in my normal bee fondant recipe - a mix of sugar, water, and a tiny bit of white vinegar.

The bad news is that I’ve already lost one hive this winter. I cracked into it and didn’t see a single bee coming to “greet” me. As I pulled off the upper boxes, I found a ball of totally dead bees below. Ugh.

I suspect their queen may have died in late fall, as I found “supersedure cells” in the hive. When a queen is sick, not laying, or dead, the other bees can force the creation of a new queen in a supersedure cell. While it looks like the the new queens hatched, they needed to mate with a drone in order to start laying eggs. There are very few drones in the fall, so perhaps this didn’t happen. The result was likely no new brood hatching throughout the fall and a tiny hive that couldn’t stay warm come winter.

I distributed the dead hive’s saved up honey to some of my weaker hives in hopes that their loss will help keep others alive. Finally, I wrapped all my weakest hives in bee cozies to try to give them a little extra help staying warm.

Farm baby now has a handful of words, including Mama, Dada, Papa, and…baba, which very specifically means chickens (and ducks). I guess it shouldn’t surprise me that he’d love chickens at an early age (that whole nature vs. nurture thing), but boy does he enjoy visiting his babas.

(We ride at dawn, Heebeejeebies!)

Here’s What I Loved This Week

My social media break has given me more time for crocheting in the evenings. I’ve been enjoying making warm things for the family.

Some have been more successful than others. Like this baba scarf for Farm Baby.

Less successful was this hat, which followed Todd’s orders for “an extra large hat” just a little too literally.

Oh, just fold it up, you say? When you fold it up enough to actually, you know, see out of it, the bottom is so thick it looks like a crocheted sombrero.

If anyone knows Marge Simpson, send me her address, and I’ll mail this to her.

Merry Christmas! May your new year be full of good intentions and trying your best.

You are worthy of care: From those you love, from our broader society, and from yourself. This month of festivity and frenzy, demand the time, space, and energy you need to care for yourself, too. - Julia

Here’s What’s Happening At Good Spirits Farm

The Sunday before Thanksgiving, I had big plans for an afternoon mountain bike ride. The weather was warm, the grandparents were on standby for childcare, and then: I saw Julia’s eye leaking thick white mucus.

Eye stuff is something I don’t mess around with. It progresses quickly and has serious consequences. The bike ride would have to wait.

We strapped the baby to Todd’s back, marched everyone out to the field, and slipped a halter on Julia. (I train all my cows to lead, and it is one of the best time investments I make. Not having to drive everyone into the working chute to administer care to one is a huge time saver.) With just a little urging, she was secured.

Baby’s first animal health emergency!

Pretty quickly, I figured out Julia had some sort of vegetable matter stuck under the top left part of her eyelid.

I’ll just gently reach in and pull that out, I thought. This will be easy!

Gingerly, I pulled back the lid and grabbed hold of the thing. One yank and…it broke off in the eye.

Now there was still something in the eye, but it was too small to grab with my fingers. I didn’t dare reach for it with pointy forceps. One shake of her head and I’d potentially blind her for life. I was going to have to call the vet.

I released her from the chute, took her back to her pals, and left a message on the vet’s answering service.

Farm calls are not cheap. No farmer wants to call the vet out unless they have to. Large animal vets also don’t really want to come unless they must. It’s much more lucrative to have animals come to you than to drive across the county to see a cow with a boo-boo.

But, again, I don’t mess with eye stuff. A vet appointment was made for Monday, and I raced daylight to get in a quick mountain bike ride.

The next day, we pulled Julia back out of the field and got her back in the chute. In one swift movement, the vet reached in with forceps (such confidence!) and pulled out a two-inch-long sticker branch. We all stared at it in total disbelief at its length. Julia must have been in SO MUCH PAIN. Calling the vet was 100 percent the right decision. A few days of applying antibiotic ointment to the eye, and she’s good as new!

I sometimes worry that I don’t have the decades of knowledge of many of the long-time farmers around me. But it’s so good to know my intuition proved to be right.

Here’s What I Loved This Week

I am doing a December social media fast. No Facebook, BlueSky, or Instagram. The research on active social media use (posting and scrolling) and anxiety is not great. And I feel like my ability to do deep-focus work is so hampered by the siren’s call of “maybe I’m missing something good online.”

Also: I miss having time to be creative. At the end of the day, I am often so tired I endlessly scroll, versus engaging in crocheting, music making, or creative writing. This is not how I wish to spend my finite time on this planet.

So: I bought something called a Brick, which physically blocks your phone from accessing apps. While it’s utterly silly that I need something like this to come between me and my beloved Instagram, it has worked (so far).

I promise, this is not a paid endorsement. However, if you are looking for a tool to make your phone less addictive, perhaps this could help you, too. (Also, it is FSA eligible, which is funny but true.)

May you spend more time doing what you love this holiday season, too.

You are loved. You are supported. Your community values you. Thank you for being a wonderful member of our flock; we’ve got your back.

— The Flerd, but especially Juliet, who loves with her whole heart (in return for butt skritches)

What’s Happening At Good Spirits Farm

It’s been a minute - between the farm, the job, and the baby, each day feels 28 milliseconds long. But the big farm news is that we got another dog!

Fall is now deeply upon us—a wind storm tonight will probably knock every last crimson and gold leaf from the trees. The gals, as they do every fall, are in various states of undress.

The older generations have quit laying as they switch to growing in their winter plumage. But this summer’s chicks are coming online (they don’t molt their first winter). I love the first tiny eggs we get. Look at this petite trio, perfect for making a baby-sized three-egg omelet!

Monday will bring our first hard freeze. We’ll spend the weekend gathering the last of the winter squash, the green tomatoes, and harvesting any remaining lettuce. Normally, the day before a hard freeze is a flurry of work, but between the rabbits and my lack of bandwidth, my fall garden is almost non-existent.

Yesterday, I stopped by a friend’s house to take some of her extra abundance off her hands. She’s retired and has turned most of her yard into a series of well-tended beds. Walking through her garden, I saw my retirement dreams in full color: nurturing a garden all day with more than enough to give away to anyone in need. My barefoot grandma garden witch era, it shall be.

Until then, I’ll grow what I can and just learn to be happy with that. Of course, that would be easier if I didn’t have neighbors like this guy showing up just in time to dig holes in all the wrong places.

Move along, bud. We’ve got more than enough to deal with already here.

Here’s What I Loved This Week

I can’t remember if I wrote about starting some new mushroom logs this summer or not. Basically, you can inoculate fresh-cut oak and poplar logs with mushroom spores by pounding mushroom spawn into holes in the logs.

Then you seal up the holes with wax, place the logs in a shady spot, and wait.

It takes about 6 months—sometimes longer—for mushrooms to grow. And the last time I did this, I was almost to the end of the waiting game when an overzealous tree removal crew threw all my logs in the chipper. (I know they thought they were helping, but I still have not fully forgiven them.)

So: this summer I started over. This morning, I saw the first gauzy bits of mycelium creeping over the ends of the logs. It will be spring, at the earliest, before harvest. But at least we have progress!

Your interest in others is a gift. Relish your curiosity. Never stop wanting to learn about the broader world and those within it.

— Baaaah-atrice, who was delighted by the guineas passing through her paddock

Here’s What’s Happening At Good Spirits Farm

I love that this time of year, when the fields have a fully stocked buffet of residual grass from the summer, and cool-season species popping up in between. While it’s usually quite dry in September, we have lucked out with good rain this year. Now, it’s off to the races for many of our native grass species. I’m hopeful we’ll have a thick stand of grasses to graze all winter long. That will keep my hay bill managable, which seems especially important this year, given the price of literally everything else.

There are many reasons we love Veli, including her gentleness with Farm Baby. (Don’t worry, we don’t leave them together unattended, because he is still working on “gentle touch”…and not pulling ears and tails.)

Unfortunately, that gentleness does not extend to the chickens. But can you blame her? Chickens are basically live squeaky toys that taste just like chicken! So: during the day, we keep the gate between our front yard and back yard closed. Veli hangs out in the front yard, and the chickens have free range of the back.

Buuuuut the other day I must not have latched the gate properly and….of course…Todd heard a squeaking noise and came out to find Veli with a chicken in her mouth.

The good news is that she dropped the bird as soon as Todd asked her to (good girl!). Even better: The chicken was still alive. I (wearing a bathrobe…why do these things only happen when I am not fully clothed?? Sorry, neighbors!) scooped her up and rushed her to a spot where I could do an exam. I was hoping for the best but fearing the worst. Putting down a badly injured chicken is definitely my least favorite farm activity. We lucked out this time. Aside from a few missing feathers and a cut or two, Elena KegHen was totally fine.

After a few days in isolation to let her cuts heal without any of the other bird picking on her, Elena’s now back out with the rest of the flock and appears to be recovering nicely. These gals are such a resiliant bunch! (And I promise to do better about checking that gate latch.)

Here’s What I Loved This Week

Did you know that “Weird Al” is touring? Of course we had to take the whole family to see him. (Naturally, Farm Baby needed a Hawaiian shirt for the ocassion). It’s never to early to introduce kids to polka and satire, that’s my motto.

I hope you all take time to celebrate your own weirdness this weekend!

You are entitled to peace. Peace from difficult relationships, peace from this worrisome moment in the world, peace from your own self-judgement. Take your quiet time in the shade. Whether you want to use that time to pick your nose with your own tongue is up to you (and your tongue’s dexterity). — Gimlet

Here’s What’s Happening At Good Spirits Farm

The best way I can describe farming through a pandemic, then a divorce, then a career change, then a baby, is that I have been running up the “down” escalator as fast as I can. I am keeping up, but it feels so hard to actually get anywhere.

And then August hits like someone rolling down the escalator in one of those blow-up sumo suits, knocking me down to the bottom as they go. Any hope I had of keeping on top of things is lost as the apples, grapes, pears, tomatoes, corn, raspberries, and squash all come in at once.

To be clear: I am not complaining. We have food better than what you can buy at the store and too much of it. I relish sharing with neighbors and family. Tomato rich is my real status goal in this life.

But right now, there is never a moment of downtime. Never even a hope of getting ahead. Three things get added to my to-do list every time one thing comes off. The chickens, of course, are no help, sunbathing while I toil away.

I spend this time reminding myself it won’t be like this forever. (Though, I also spend it having the occasional meltdown about how next year I am ABSOLUTELY not planting as big a garden. I mean it this time! For real!!) And then I eat my weight in tomatoes each day and knowing I’ll be right back here again next year.

In other news, we are on weasel watch. A guy helping with some odd jobs on the farm reported a weasel-like critter trying to breach the teen hens’ rolling coop. Weasels LOVE killing chickens. Like cats, they delight in hunting for sport. If they can gain entry to a coop at night, they’ll kill every chicken—and not even eat half of what they kill.

Weasels are a five-alarm fire to chicken farmers. Immediately, I moved the teens in with the big gals. Ruthie and Bumble were also evicted from their rolling retirement coop and added back to the main flock. The chicken shack, as ugly as it is, has so far proven to be secure, and I’m not taking any chances.

For the past few nights, I have set out all four Hav-A-Heart traps, baited with fresh cow liver and salmon. Veli has been reminded that the chicken yard is part of her domain, and she needs to patrol it while doing her nightly bark-a-thon. So far, I haven’t caught anything, but I also haven’t lost any birds. Let’s hope that luck holds.

Oh also, the farm caught on fire.

It’s been dry, and someone likely tossed a cigarette butt out their window. Thanks to the local fire department, it was out in a jiffy, and no critters were harmed. Three cheers for taxpayer-funded government services!

Here’s What I Loved This Week

I look forward to making this tomato dumpling salad every summer. I know that sounds like a strange combo of ingredients, but it’s terrific, easy, and uses up a ton of tomatoes. It’s on tap for our “date night” dinner tonight. [My tip: if you’re making enough for a couple of nights, store surplus dumplings separately, otherwise they’ll get quite mushy in their tomato juice bath.]

Last note (IMPORTANT!): I am working on moving off the Substack platform. This newsletter will remain free. It brings me joy to share my farm with so many of you. However, the email address from which the newsletter is sent may change shortly. Keep an eye on your spam folder!

You are loved just the way you are. Even if you have perpetual grump face. (Especially if you have perpetual grump face.)

The only approval you need is your own. Vive la grouch!

Here’s What’s Happening At Good Spirits Farm

Would you believe it if I told you the chicks are all grown up?? We’ve moved them out of the broodinator into a rolling coop to integrate them with the rest of the birds. Aside from the guineas being big, loud bullies, the chicks are thoroughly enjoying their free-range teenage time.

I’ve also decided that Ruthie probably needs to live out the rest of her chickie days in a separate little coop to keep bullies at bay and limit how much she moves on her bad leg. She gained a friend (a chicken named Bumble, who also has mobility issues), and the two are cruising around the yard in our second alumnum rolling coop.

Whenever I bring out snacks—like these Doritos that were past their prime—I make sure to make a stop at Ruthie and Bumble’s coop. Everyone deserves snacks!

The big news is that our honey harvest for the year is complete! This is always a huge task, although I will say that not being pregnant—as I was last year—made this year’s harvest so much easier.

For new readers, a little history: The bee operation was always my ex-husband’s empire. When he moved off the farm, he left his hives, and I got a crash course in trying to keep bees alive. This was my third honey harvest where I’m the expert in the room, and I finally feel like I know what I’m doing.

We ended up harvesting from 11 of our 12 mature hives. The hive we didn’t harvest came out of winter struggling. I thought they might catch up, but when I inventoried their honey cache, I just didn’t feel like they had enough to share. I’m a risk-averse bee keeper, and I know others might harvest anyway, seeing a struggling hive as one that is worth letting die—survival of the fittest and all that.

I, however, am a sucker for second chances. If a hive just needs a little time to get back in its groove, so be it. Heck, I’ve needed many second chances over the years.

After two full days hauling hive boxes full of honey, carefully removing the wax caps on the comb, spinning the honey out of the comb, filtering it, and then scrubbing the sticky off of every square inch of our honey processing gear, we had 20 beautiful gallons of honey ready for bottling.

Currently, I don’t plan to ship any this year—I just don’t have the bandwidth for printing labels, trips to the post office, etc. But I’m hoping to return to shipping honey next year!

Man, oh man, do I relish this sight! A year’s worth of work coming out of the spout!

Here’s What I Loved This Week

We are being inundated with cherry tomatoes from the garden, and this recipe for feta baked with chickpeas and cherry tomatoes is the best I’ve found for using them up. Throw it in the oven, cut up some crusty bread, make a quick salad, and feast.

No one, and I mean absolutely no one—yourself included—should ever underestimate you. You are capable. You are strong. You surpass every expectation.

— Ruthie, the Energizer Bunny of chickens

Here’s What’s Happening at Good Spirits Farm

As promised, I have another interview today. But first, an explanation on the star of today’s newsletter. As some of you may remember, Ruthie had such a hard winter recovering from a molt. She was so pathetic, we even brought her into the house (during the height of bird flu, with an infant in the house!), which is how you know I really love this chicken.

She’s also developed a chronic limp. I can’t see anything truly wrong with the leg, but this breed is quite, uh, robust, and one of her sisters clearly has arthritis, so I figured that was what was going on with Ruthie, too.

But then, the other day, we noticed her wobble had gotten much worse, and she wasn’t moving around much. I looked her over again (no local vets see chickens), and again, couldn’t see a break or a dislocation or a wound. I put her in isolation for a few days to rest up, as chickens can be very mean to each other, especially when they detect a weakness. (Just like humans.)

Just like this winter, I worried that this was the beginning of Ruthie’s end. And then, yesterday, I walked out to check on her and found she’d laid not one but TWO eggs in her little isolation ward. I figured Ruthie went through hen-o-pause years ago—she’s almost 7, which is the average lifespan for a chicken. Furthermore, weak chickens generally stop laying, as it’s an energy-intensive activity. This old gal just refuses to quit, and wow, do I love her for it. She’s clearly not ready to leave us anytime soon.

Today I have an interview with Dr. Meghan Kartley, a large animal and equine vet. Dr. Kartley was a hero when I had to put Ghost down last summer. It was a complicated event, because Ghost and Gin were so bonded—we needed to get Gin loaded onto the trailer to his new home at exactly the same time we were beginning to sedate Ghost. Leaving either alone for too long would have seriously stressed them out.

Vets are busy people, but Dr. Kartley arranged her schedule so she could pull in at exactly the same time the trailer for Gin pulled up. While I (then very pregnant at the time), worked with a friend on loading Gin, Dr. Kartley quietly got organized and gave Ghost his first round of sedation. Then, she waited patiently so I could say my goodbyes. It was a terrible day, but one that was made less stressful by her kindness.

A few weeks ago, I learned that Dr. Kartley had closed her practice here to move to a small animal clinic in Texas. Jamestown, Tennessee, has a huge horse population, but we’ve had trouble keeping farm vets. I wanted to ask her why. The interview below has been lightly edited for clarity and length.

ACS: I feel like a lot of the vets I know are the rare breed of person who actually ended up doing the thing they wanted to do when they were kids. Is that true for you?

MK: Oh, absolutely. That's exactly the story. In fact, my mom ran into my kindergarten teacher at the grocery store right after I graduated from vet school. She still remembered that I said I wanted to be a vegetarian and help animals, because I couldn't say veterinarian. With that being said, I was raised in the city. So, until I was in high school and got into horses, I did not even know there were equine veterinarians or large animal veterinarians.

ACS: You told me that it took you several tries to get into vet school. Why did you keep going?

MK: The first time I applied to Ohio State, the dean of the vet school asked me how far I drove to get to my interview, and then he told me I’d just wasted 3.5 hours of my life because I’d never be a vet.

ACS: Wow, what a shit thing to do. Why didn’t you give up?

MK: That actually made more like “I am going to do this one way or another.”

ACS: I'm so glad you did! What do you love most about being a vet?

MK: I love animals. I am the person who, if it rains, I won’t step on the worms on the sidewalk—I’ll throw them back in the grass. But I also love the science, I’ve always found that interesting. Most of all, I really love the human-animal bonds. I didn’t have the best childhood, but as a kid, that bond with animals was so, so important. And I really love the relationships you make with both animals and people. It’s the best of both worlds—you get to create connections with both humans and animals.

ACS: I feel like that is a little unique. A few other vets I know somewhat struggle with having to deal with humans all day.

MK: Honestly, I am a people person as well as an animal person. If it were financially feasible, I’d go to medical school.

ACS: That’s interesting. And the financially feasible thing is something I want to talk about, because I feel like a lot of people don’t understand the financial realities of being a large animal vet. Is it because the equipment you need is so much larger and therefore more expensive?

MK: It’s not even that. I think the large animal farm vet model is going to go extinct, and it’s not a matter of if, it’s a matter of when. It’s purely a matter of time: You only have so many minutes in the day, and the amount of time you spend traveling farm to farm—that’s time that in a small animal clinic you could be doing several procedures. Like where I am working now, I am booked for an animal every 30 minutes, but often I am actually double or triple booked. SoI am seeing three animals, four, five animals in an hour.

As a farm vet, to keep your costs reasonable so people can afford your services, you really can’t bill for drive time like you’d bill for procedures. But you graduate with the same amount of student debt as someone going into small animal. [ACS: Currently, the average amount of student debt a vet student graduates with is $179,505.]

But that’s only part of it. You also have to be available for emergencies. So your work-life balance becomes nonexistent. You’ll get home from a long day of seeing patients only to have your phone ring with an emergency. You’re never really off.

ACS: So for farmers like me, is the future going to be that if I have an animal in crisis, I need to either be prepared to haul it to a vet in a trailer?

MK: Absolutely.

ACS: I want to also talk about the mental health aspects of the work you do. I know that veterinarians have a suicide rate 2-4 times that of the general population. I am sure you have dealt with some difficult situations and seen animals treated in some pretty rough ways. What keeps you going?

MK: It’s that human-animal bond. When I was working in a rural area, sure, I’d see that farm dog that was covered in fleas. Maybe it’s not vaccinated, or neutered, or spayed. But it’s sharing Grandpa’s meal with him—like every meal--and they’re sitting together on the front porch. That dog is loved; you can tell that dog is that man’s life. And I try not to judge, because what one person thinks something should be is not always what another person does. I think that if we respected each other but tried to help each other with a healthy respect, that’s better than pointing fingers.

In my practice in Ohio, I had a lot of Amish clients. And I think that, because I didn’t judge them, that’s a big reason that they felt they could bring their animals to me. In the long run, I feel like I made a difference by educating the owners and helping the patient.

ACS: What keeps you going on the days that are really hard?

MK: You know, it’s crazy, I’ll have a really difficult case and then it’s followed by an uplifting case—like helping with a dystocia (assisting with a stuck baby during birth). I keep all of the thank-you cards I get. When I would go on emergency calls in the Amish community and after every emergency, there’d always be a baked good on the front seat of my car waiting for me. Being a part of a community, that keeps me going—and I felt like I was just getting to that point in Jamestown. It just didn’t make sense to stay there for a number of reasons.

ACS: Do you think you’ll ever come back to this area?

MK: Absolutely. I am holding onto my land there; I still love the area. But it has to make sense for me and my family to be there. Maybe when I retire.

(Gratuitous pic of Ghost, because this interview is making me think of him and how glad I am to have had a wonderful vet help him transition peacefully out of this world.)

Here’s What I Loved This Week

I have not had a recipe be this cheap, delicious and easy in a very long time. This okonomiyake (basically a ramen noodle frittata) recipe from the New York Times (gift link, so no subscription required!) was an absolute hit.

I added more veggies—sauteed bok choy and broccoli raab, because my garden is overflowing with both—and a couple of tablespoons of chile garlic sauce for heat, but otherwise made it exactly as written. Don’t be afraid of the flip, either, it’s not as hard as it sounds!

Your feelings and moods are valid. You deserve time and space to process your emotions. It’s okay to not be okay. — This little itty bitty ball of pure mood.

Here’s What’s Happening At Good Spirits Farm

As you can see, we have some new additions to the farm! I ordered these chicks about six months ago. Six months ago me thought that the frenzy of being a new mom would have calmed down by now. Six months ago me was wildly wrong. [Is that the sound of every experienced parent cackling that I hear?]

Last week, I almost canceled my order. Not only are we frenetically busy with Farm Baby, full-time jobs, spotty child care, and all the current critters, but cuts to the USPS have meant shipping chicks is no longer reliable. Yes, the USPS ships chicks! It’s something they’ve done since 1892 (great explainer here from the wonderful chicken author ), and I’ve had terrific results with shipped chicks in the past. But USPS cuts are heavily impacting rural areas, and in poultry farming Facebook groups, I’ve heard nothing but horror stories about thousands of chicks being dead on arrival.

The hatchery had a steep cancellation fee, and chicks coming from big box stores, like Tractor Supply, are often in rough shape from less-than-ideal care. However, I knew that if we wanted to have eggs this winter, as our old gals take the winters off these days, we’d need a new batch of hens.

So, I did that super healthy thing where I kept putting off making a decision until I got a shipping notification and realized inertia had made the decision for me.

And then I spent the next two days flooded with anxiety that I’d essentially sentenced 15 babies to a slow death by starvation in the back corner of a postal warehouse. I don’t think I realized how anxious I was about this all going wrong until I heard my mail carrier call from the post office on Tuesday morning, asking if I’d like to come get the chicks directly or wait for her to drop them off. I could hear cheeping in the background, and I wanted to cry from relief.

I feel lucky that I have not struggled with postpartum depression, but it’s becoming pretty clear that I am struggling with postpartum anxiety. The night before the chicks arrived, I told Todd that I was not feeling myself. I had this all-over sense of unease that I couldn’t seem to shake or pin to a specific thing. It was this intense feeling of overwhelm. The moment I knew the chicks were safe, that feeling lifted. This is something I’m clearly going to have to be more cognizant of, so I can recognize what I’m feeling and identify potential causes, versus just walking around as a ball of nerves.

Getting more chicks meant putting the Broodinator 5000, one of the first things Todd built for the farm, back into service. We’ve been keeping the Broodinator (which is very large and very heavy) up in the hayloft, which meant using the tractor to get it down. We don’t use our front-end loader on the tractor very often, but boy, is it handy when we need it!

The good news is these itty bitties seem to be settling in well.

Veli is enjoying watching her chick flicks.

And I’m enjoying playing mother hen—teaching them how to drink from their water dispenser, and how to tuck under the heat plate when they need a warm spot for a nap.

(This one came with pre-applied eyeliner, which is fortunate because that’s a skill I can’t do myself, let alone teach.)

We’ll need names soon, so put on your thinking caps!

Here’s What I Loved This Week

Last week, we took our first off-the-farm getaway with Farm Baby. Fall Creek Falls State Park in Tennessee is a lovely spot for a weekend trip. I highly recommend it if you’re looking for a family-friendly spot with hiking, a nice lodge, and lovely waterfall views.

I have another interview to publish in the next newsletter — or as soon as I have the bandwidth to get it transcribed! Stay tuned!

You are capable of achieving your dreams. Keep striving, keep scheming, keep believing in yourself. Nothing is out of reach. — Heebeejeebees, who dreams of being a full-time lap chicken, and plans to keep pecking you until it happens. Seriously, lady, stop taking pics and PICK ME UP! Don’t make me choose violence.

Here’s What’s Happening At Good Spirits Farm

I had the best of intentions to get ahead of the bees swarming this spring by pre-emptively splitting hives before new queens could hatch. But the hive boxes are so heavy, I kept not being able to lift them alone (I’ve lost quite a bit of strength postpartum, as breastfeeding slowly zaps all of my body’s resources), so I’ve needed Todd’s help to go box-by-box looking for queen cells.

If both of us need to be suited up, that really limits how much time we can spend in the bee yard. Last Saturday, we put Farm Baby down for a nap, shimmied into our suits, lit the smoker, and were halfway into inspecting our first hive when we heard crying on the monitor. It’s awfully hard to accomplish much in a 32 minute nap!

So: While we successfully split three of our hives before they swarmed, this week, our luck ran out. So far, we’ve had a swarm every day.

(This is what a swarm looks like as it’s leaving. I do my day job next to a window watching the hives, so I can finish up whatever Zoom call I’m on and run out as soon as I start seeing the funnel cloud of bees forming.)

Luck has been on my side, in that the bees have so far chosen to swarm to easy-to-reach locations.

Remember last year when they kept swarming to the apple trees and Todd had to wear our bee vacuum like a backpack and climb up into the branches to get to them?

Beyond feeling lucky that the bees are choosing easy to reach spots, I’m grateful for hives that are healthy enough to split, and that our operation continues to grow. Yesterday, I had to run out and buy more hive boxes, as I’ve filled every empty box I had. Last year, we set up a second bee yard, in anticipation of needing more space. Then we struggled to catch and keep our swarms (once you put them in a new hive, it’s kind of a 50/50 chance on whether they decide to stay there or move on). So, until last week, it only had two small hives in it. Now, it’s starting to look like a proper bee yard!

These next few weeks will continue to be all about bees. I suspect we’ll see more swarms, and all the new hives will need some TLC to get off to a strong start. Making honeycomb is resource-intensive, so they’ll need to be fed jars of sugar water for at least the next month.

That’s going to mean some late nights for us, rushing out after Farm Baby is down for the night, baby monitor in hand, to try and get all the bee chores—and other chores— done before dark.

Sometimes, when it’s 8:30 p.m., and I am still unloading new bee boxes from the car, or refilling water tanks for the flerd, I start to wonder if this is all becoming just a bit much for two people with full time jobs and a baby. And then I see some bug or bird or rat snake enjoying the landscape I’ve spent the last six years creating, and think: Not yet.

Here’s What I Loved This Week

Y’all, look what I found on Facebook Marketplace.

The best part is that, although it’s hard to see from this angle, somehow this rocking sheep is just as rotund as Juliet. (Both Todd and I remarked: “It’s as fat as Lambie” as soon as we saw it!) A perfect facsimile!

With tariffs set to make new stuff more expensive, I want to hear all your best second-hand shopping stories. What’s the best used treasure you’ve ever purchased, and where did you find it?

You are a maker of good trouble. You are too strong to be worn weary by those who want you to be a little less loud, a little less you, a little more like them. — Juliet, who turned four this week! Four years of low-key refusing to bend to authority! May we all carry a little bit of her spirit with us.

Here’s What’s Happening At Good Spirits Farm

There’s something deeply reassuring about the cyclical nature of farming. When you think you can’t stand one more day of blustery March winds, April arrives with the warm hug of a balmy afternoon. When last year’s stored garlic is shirveled, you see this spring’s crop sprouting. The gentle turn, turn, turn of the planet rocking you like a big, celestial cradle, reminding you that this too, shall pass.

The spring green-up has begun in earnest, with my pastures exploding overnight. It’s time for me to speed up the movement of my cows and sheep, to utilize every bit of this lushness before summer sends the grasses to seed. I move them to fresh paddocks every two days using reels of hotwire and temporary fence posts, but during the “salad days” of spring, I’ll make the paddocks just a bit bigger than normal. Everyone shall feast!

The sheep are always ready and waiting for me to come let them through to the next day’s buffet!

It’s interesting: When I move the flerd forward, the cows go straight for the grass. The sheep, though, get right to work on the awful, invasive multiflora rose.

They, alone, aren’t able to really take the plants down, but they do knock them back. Once the wild blackberries have blossomed (terrific food for the bees), and the ground nesting birds have fledged their babies, I’ll get the tractor out and mow this whole field down, to try and keep the brambles from getting too out of control. Mowing and sheep are my two best tools, since we don’t use herbicides.

Tomorrow, like every other day, I’ll move the critters again. And then I’ll begin my list of spring chores: Plant potatoes, water seedlings, spread compost on the garden. It’s the same things I did at about this time last year, and I hope I’ll be doing these tasks again next year and for many years after that. These repetitive motions helping to orient me in a world that too often feels like it makes no sense.

Here’s What I Loved This Week

This story of very good boi Buford, who rescued a two-year-old. Of course he’s an Anatolian/Pyranese mix! These gentle giants are so good with kids. Veli says she’s ready to babysit!

You may feel small, and like the good you can do is limited. You may feel like you’re just scrambling and trying to survive.

But you are one of oh so many. Your work, your voice, your efforts all matter. Together, we will make this place better—one tiny action at a time.

Here’s What’s Happening At Good Spirits Farm

It’s bee season! Technically, it’s always bee season, as these critters need year-round tending. But spring is an especially critical time, as hives emerge from their boxes and begin the process of rebuilding from winter.

You may have seen the news that this was a terrible winter for honeybees, and that honeybee losses are expected to be as high as 70 percent this year. So far, all of my hives have made it through, which feels more like a stroke of good luck than a credit to my skills as a beekeeper.

We cracked open the hives this week to begin looking for new queen cells, which will prompt the hive to “swarm” or split into two smaller hives.

We didn’t find any, which feels unusual for this time of year. The first few days that it hits into the mid-70s, we almost always have swarms. I’m wondering if all my hives survived, but just by a thread, and as a result, they have not felt healthy enough to split yet this year.

What I am seeing is tons and tons of pollen being brought into the hives. I love looking for pollen sacks on their little bee legs. See them? The tiny dots of yellow and orange are pollen they’ve collected from flowers and are hauling back to the hive.

I love that the amount of pollen each bee is bringing in is miniscule. And yet, it never discourages them. They’ll drop off what they found, do a cute little bee dance to tell their sisters where they found it, and then they’re off for another round. Keep doing tiny things, I tell myself as I watch them. Collectively, it matters.

My current little action? Planting a slightly bigger garden this year, knowing that with cuts to food banks, there may be more friends who could use some veggies this spring and summer. Luckily, I have good garden help.

Here’s What I Loved This Week

The fall before the pandemic, my parents visited and spent a day planting bulbs in my yard. That following spring, when I was worrying about them living in a crowded condo building with a pediatrician’s office on the first floor, these beauties popped up for the first time.

Ultimately, my parents ended up coming to live with us for longer than any of us expected, which was one of the few bright sides of that long, lonely time. And every spring when the daffodils and tulips emerge, I’m reminded of how lucky I am to have wonderful parents, how grateful I am that I could provide a safe spot, and how being together with those you love becomes even more important when times are tough.