County Ag

Home, sweet home is Augusta County, VA…smack-dab in the middle of ag-land.

Our county is ranked #2 in the state by agricultural sales, totaling over 232 million dollars in the last Ag census of 2012.  

There is more farmland in Augusta County than any other county in Virginia! 

1,706 farms that account for 260,137 acres. The county also ranks #1 in beef cattle and lamb and sheep production. I truly love that we are a part of those statistics. (albeit a tiny part)

So, to say that Agriculture is a big deal is somewhat of an understatement. We are surrounded by hayfields and grazing animals. Poultry barns and growing grain crops dot the landscape. It’s not unusual to see a tractor or other farm equipment on the roadways.   

...and occasionally...COWS

I guess you could say that the county has “always” been agricultural. In the nineteenth century, wheat was a major crop. The entire Valley was once referred to as the “bread basket of the Confederacy”. Today, many places still bear the names of the mills they once housed.

Walnut Grove Farm in Steele’s Tavern/Raphine was the homeplace of Cyrus McCormick. If you know Agriculture at all, you’ve heard of Cyrus. In some ways, he is the father of modern agriculture. He invented the mechanical reaper, which changed harvest for farmers everywhere. This eventually became the combine and completely revolutionize Agriculture. The company he formed went on to become International Harvester, known worldwide for their agricultural equipment.

While our personal history with the county still makes us newcomers, my ancestors were here from the very beginning. A many times great uncle, or maybe it was a far-removed cousin, John Lewis, was the first settler and his son, Thomas, laid out the streets of Staunton, which served as the county seat and the hub of commerce.  I remember visiting kin people in the area when I was a small child and it seems only fitting that we would end up here, farming on our little hill just south of town.

Livestock still outnumber humans here in the county. (and probably always will) 

But, the landscape has changed dramatically as more and more people move to this beautiful place and houses pop up on what was once productive farmland. 

more than one hayfield has become a subdivision

We have seen the changes firsthand and the impacts are felt by everyone. Once farmland is lost, it cannot be reclaimed.

unused dairy barn  

It is the intent of those who organize Ag day (and National Ag week) to encourage everyone to appreciate what impact agriculture has on our daily lives. Living here...in our beautiful county...with its deep agricultural history and thriving agricultural economy, we are blessed to be truly immersed in Ag...granting us a deep appreciation that may be lacking elsewhere.

So, on this Thursday...I’m THANKFUL that I can call Augusta County with its long agricultural heritage home.

coming into Mbrk

 Read more about Augusta County and Staunton history...

http://www.augustacountyhs.org/our-history/

http://www.visitstaunton.com/history.htm

Zoned - Exclusive Ag

-wall art from the heart.com

On this Monday of Ag week, we’re marking a bit of an anniversary here on the hill.

19 years ago today (March 14, 1997), our offer to purchase this little bit of Augusta County was finally accepted. 

In reality it was in fact our counter-offer that was accepted.

This was a big deal.

A VERY BIG deal.

We had spent the six previous weeks (yes, six weeks, it only seemed like eternity) “walking in the wilderness” after experiencing the single-most shocking, horrifying and heartbreaking experience of our lives. (for the abridged version…click THIS)   We had looked high and low to find a place to begin our lives anew.

This acreage was the very last entry on the list the realtor gave us.

Somehow, we figured we could make this into a new home.

We made a fair offer...

And, the seller turned us down. Flat.

To say we were devastated would be an understatement.

We ran the figures again and made a counter-offer. It wasn’t much more, but amazingly it was enough to satisfy the seller. The acceptance of that offer was our life-line. It didn’t matter that there was no house, no barn…nothing.  It just mattered that it was ours. (although, we didn’t actually take possession for another 10 days)

We didn’t have any real ideas on what to do next and we certainly didn’t have a BUSINESS plan. (and, we still don’t…have a business plan)

But, wait a minute! You said that it’s Ag week…and what on earth does this story have to do with Ag? (I’m getting there…really)

Augusta County boasts more farm acreage than any other county in the state of Virginia. We were already living in the northern end of the county and something about the wild, rural scenery spoke to our souls. So, when we were looking for a spot to rebuild our lives, we knew that Augusta County and Agriculture would play a part somehow. But, our meager purchase didn’t look like a FARM in anyone’s mind. (and, quite honestly, it still doesn’t)

Homestead Hill in March '97
"potential"

However, this property was zoned EXCLUSIVE Ag. 

To our minds, that was exactly what we needed. No restrictions on the type (or number) of livestock…no homeowners’ association to dictate what the place looked like. BUT…(you knew that was coming, didn't you?) ...Exclusive Ag also means that the income generated from the property must be somehow farm-related. (there are exceptions/options, but we didn't have the $ to pursue them)  That meant that the business we were hoping to make our living from, the one that the Boss honestly seemed the best suited for…wasn’t gonna happen…at all.

We were going to have to “drop back and punt” again.

Life had thrown us more than a few curve-balls…and honestly, the story of our lives together should be titled …SUBJECT TO CHANGE…(but, that’s for another day)

So…re-think this thing.

And that means…Agriculture.

What on earth can you do with Agriculture when you have just purchased twelve acres of rocky hill? Just 12 acres. And, it’s mostly hill. A hill made of rock.

The plan didn’t make itself clear to us all at once. We actually have to thank friends, neighbors and probably a few complete strangers for the odd and random insight that helped us to re-invent ourselves and develop what is now a working farm…Homestead Hill Farm.

If it wasn’t for that EXCLUSIVE Ag zoning, we would have never begun to “think outside the box”, to consider new and creative ways to generate income, to use the opportunity to teach our children about life, to grow as human beings and understand animal husbandry…and appreciate and love this land that we have been granted to care for.

We probably wouldn’t have become farmers’ market vendors, which now defines us in many ways. 

We wouldn’t have discovered the strength and fortitude that forging a life on a tiny piece of property requires.

So, personally, Agriculture actually means far more than just…

“the science or practice of farming, including cultivation of the soil for the growing of crops and the rearing of animals to provide food, wool, and other products.”

Agriculture defines me. Ag gives me hope, direction and purpose. (and pays the bills)

dawn at the barn

 It’s Agriculture Week…does Ag mean anything to YOU?

Countin' Sheep and Counting Blessings

1....2....3....4....5........6.....7......8,9.... wait a minute, did I see another one?...

Let me start over.  1....2,3,4......5...6....no, hold still....7...8...

I think it's.....19....20....

Wait! Where are the rest of you?

1...2...3...

I can assure you that whoever decided counting sheep was restful and pleasant, suggesting it as a good way to relax and fall asleep was NOT a shepherd. Doing a headcount, or attempting to do a headcount can be an exercise in total frustration. And, when the counting reveals that one (or more) is missing, it can be indicative of a potential tragedy.

Just like the shepherd in the biblical parable (Luke 15), I have been known to head out looking for that one missing animal. However, very much unlike that shepherd, I have done this clad in my pajamas and rubber boots and armed only with a flashlight.  More than once. I do repeated headcounts prior to closing the barn doors on winter nights. And, yes, I count them again in the morning.

All that to say, I get hung up on the little things.

The Boss, not so much. He was ready to paint this year’s lambing as “the best ever” before it ever ended. 

I just can’t say that.

I’m stuck on the fact that I found a dead lamb the other afternoon during chores. Yep. Dead as a doornail. And, everyone had been fine when I left…

I know. I know. These things happen.

But, on an operation our size, every single life counts. Not to say that is not the case on larger farms. But, our margin for error is minuscule at best.

I’m pretty sure it was one of those freak things that no one can predict...or for that matter, prevent. 

You just revise your count and go on.

That’s where I often get stuck.

But, counting sheep is not unlike counting blessings.  Actually, I guess the fact that there are any sheep to count is a blessing in and of itself.

But, sometimes you have to stop and go and look for the blessings. Just like those missing sheep.

So, while I cannot in all honesty say this was THE BEST lambing season…it has been good. (for the record, I don’t even know what THE BEST season would entail)

Here are just a few of the blessings from this season…

There are lambs. A good number of lambs.

lots of lambs

Now, don’t laugh. Of course there are lambs. We’re shepherds. There have to be lambs to become sheep. Well, right. But, back in August, when we were in the midst of the “Waylon incident”, lambs for 2016 were not at all a given. We were both resigned to the fact that without some sort of divine intervention, we wouldn’t have any type of lambchop crop…at all.

(that’s why finding Angus---and the fact he did his job so well was such a very big deal!)

Again, big shout-out to Suffangus Farm.

more lambs sunbathing
we call this the "lamb beach"

For the most part, the lambs arrived without incident. While I must admit, there is a certain thrill and a rush of adrenaline when we successfully complete a difficult delivery…I would be perfectly content to never do one again. It’s not a good start for the lamb, it’s an invasive procedure for the ewe…and quite honestly, it isn’t fun for me. It’s hard work and it hurts my hand and arm.

just moments old

The glitch in lambing dates meant that we missed lambing in winter storm Jonas. Believe me, that is definitely a blessing!

But, the lambing dates weren’t TOO late and spread out. Again, a blessing. Barn checks for months on end are no fun. (done that one)

The lambs were born during relatively warm weather. Not like this weekend when the low temperature was 2 degrees.  2 degrees!

No lambs were born during snow or ice storms. That’s a first. (a very welcome first)

The lambs are hale and hearty. As testament to good genetics, they hit the ground and started growing like weeds.

lamb racing in the snow

The hospital pen in the shop is empty. It was never even set up this season! I’m sure I don’t have to explain how this is a blessing.

There are no lambs in the livingroom! In the past, the cold, sick ones ended up next to the woodstove. Not this year!

The only lamb in the living room is a toy!

I am only supplementing a couple of lambs. (they’re still with their moms...we are “co-parenting”) That means we do NOT have seven bottle babies like last year. The memory of that experience still makes me tired. …and we’re not spending hundreds of dollars on milk replacer!

mama with triplets

Speaking of hundreds of dollars…we didn’t start feeding hay until after Christmas. This means that our hay supply will probably stretch until the grass comes back. Even if it doesn’t, there’s still no way we will have to invest as much money in hay as we have in the past.

But, we did manage to get enough hay used up to open the creep pen for the lambs. The creep pen allows the lambs access to hay and warm lights without having to compete with the ewes.

warming up

All the ewes came through the birth experience with little or no difficulty. Last year we lost two.

The little ewe lamb that had the awful case of entropion (the worst I have ever seen) has made a complete recovery. And, the recovery did NOT involve any needles near her eyes!

  

perfect eyes

There are 17 ewe lambs to 7 ram lambs. While this is definitely unusual (ordinarily it’s more 50/50) and might mean that we don’t have the rapid growth of ram lambs…it means we have far fewer castrations to perform. That’s a somewhat gross, albeit necessary, shepherding chore that neither of us is particularly fond of.

learning to eat hay

figuring out the creep feeder

The “stuck” lamb seemed to suffer no real ill-effects from her rather unconventional entrance into the world.

The tiniest triplet has the most voracious appetite and has gained a lot of weight in the past week. She weighs over 10 pounds! (she started out at 7.2)

tiny bottle baby

The little dog sweaters work perfectly to keep those smaller lambs warm. No floppy edges to get caught on things, or stepped on by the mamas.

stylish sheep

...and that 31 insulated tote I bought on a whim keeps lambs bottles warm for the trip to the barn! (no more tucking them inside my overalls)

pretty sure this was not the intended usage!

See, I’ve come up with a great number of blessings to count.

...and I didn’t even have to go wandering out in the middle of the night to do it!

The Last Good-bye

Lilacs will always remind me of Kenny...

When we met Ken Bird ten years ago, he just seemed like a nice, retired guy who wanted to sell trees and shrubs at the Farmers’ Market.  His past service to his country and his long career with the railroad were overlooked somehow, as he referred to himself as a TRUE "tree hugger".

We had no idea what an impact he would have on the Market...and our lives.

I don’t know if there has ever been anyone quite so devoted to the Market. Despite the fact that he was one of the few vendors ever to hold the dubious “honor” of having ZERO in his earnings column more than once, he was always there with a cheerful smile. He might not have had big sales, but many folks loved to visit with him and his wife on a Saturday morning. He certainly knew his trees and shrubs and he had such a zest for life. His enthusiasm and gracious attitude were contagious. He was a joy to be around. 

Along with a wide variety of trees, he sold lilac bushes.  The Boss bought me one, knowing that I have always wanted to have a lilac bush by the kitchen door. The plant thrived, due in part to Ken's kind tutelage in its care.

That awful diagnosis six and a half years ago shocked everyone. And, the prognosis was worse.

“Doctor said he ain't got long

He just smiled and said

  Bring it on

If you think I'm scared

You got me all wrong

A little cancer can't break me

My heart's right and I believe

We all hit our knees

Started prayin'...”

I don’t know why anyone was amazed when he came through the surgery and subsequent treatments far better than expected. He wasn't. His faith was amazing. He left that 6 month prognosis far, far behind. And he just seemed to keep going and going. More than one acquaintance referred to him as the “energizer bunny”.  Read this one.

While he didn’t have the stamina to continue to sell at the Market, his support never wavered. When the Market came under attack from those who would change it,  he took part in its defense.  This man with one lung, who needed an oxygen tank just to breathe, making every spoken word a precious commodity, took to the phone and talking to anyone who would listen, particularly the City Manager’s office, giving his best effort to protecting something he held dear. (far more than many able-bodied folks did) He rejoiced when the Market was able to remain unaltered.

His battle with the disease was long and arduous. But, his cheerful attitude didn’t falter. He was always grateful for what he was able to enjoy.

“Naw he never gave up

Said the Good Lord's waitin'...”

He truly loved the Market and its vendors. So, when his health would allow, he and his devoted wife would come for a visit. His strength didn’t allow for long periods of standing, so the Boss improvised a seat from an empty cooler. He would sit on his cooler “throne” and feel, for a little while, that he was a part of the Market he loved.

It became a running joke to get a phonecall or text to request his “throne” in addition to his veggies and eggs. Friends and acquaintances would stop and visit as he sat there...and if for some reason he wasn’t there...the inquiries would start. I don’t know if he had any idea how many people he inspired with his quiet, cheerful attitude toward life’s greatest injustice.  There are a great number of people that we can now count among our friends as a direct result of knowing Ken.

“That's the only way to go

Fightin' the good fight

'Til the Good Lord calls you home...”

While the sad outcome was expected, there is no real way to express the sense of loss. The Market will be a different place without the possibility of the cooler “thrones” and the impromptu inspirational gatherings of friends on the sidewalk.

But, when Spring comes, the lilac bush next to the kitchen door will bloom, bringing with it the fond memories of Ken and his tree farm.

"So be well my friend

'Til I see you again

Yeah this is our last goodbye…"

(lyrics from Brantley Gilbert’s “Hell of an Amen” )

                                                      Kenneth O. Bird 1946-2016

Sunday Walkabout 1-31

This week has been all about waiting…

…and waiting.

snow on Mbrk Road
Allegheny Mountains

We are waiting for the snow to melt.

…waiting for my back to recover from the snow removal.

…waiting for the days to pass until it’s time to plant some seeds.

Gus relaxes with "snow-dog-yoga"

But, mostly, we’ve been waiting for “Reba” to drop her lambs. (we’ll get back to that one in just a bit)

And, in keeping with our WAITING theme…it has taken me forever to get this posted. Sorry that you were kept waiting this week as well.

snowy farm 1-24

snow cover 1-29

While the snowpack is a far cry from what it was last week---and, compared to some places that ended up with FOUR feet, this is nothing---we’ve reached that point where the snow is crusty and hard and ice from the melt has made for some treacherous walking conditions. No matter how much sunshine we see, the ground is still white in many places.

snowy garden

icicles everywhere

Today the temperature is supposed to reach the mid-fifties, so I’m hoping the snow will probably be a memory before too long. And, I’m trying not to think about those predictions for February…

With all the snow on the ground, it is next to impossible to get anything done outdoors, so we remain in a “holding pattern” for a while longer. But, this gives us an opportunity to get some inside work done. (well, in theory anyway)

It really seems like we were just doing time…waiting…

"Reba" waiting for lambs

“Reba” the sheep was due to drop her first lambs this week. Monday, to be exact. Now, you may remember “Reba” the sheep from her barn dancing days…If you didn’t read that one, you really should. It has a video of sheep "dancing".  I get to watch this same performance most afternoons   as I prepare supper since the kitchen window faces the barn. The players may change, but there is some sort of exuberant dancing/running/playing every afternoon as the lambs get ready for Lamb Racing  later in the season. (again, a video worthy of your time)

Anyway...

First-time ewes are notoriously worrisome. It seems that if a sheep is going to have birthing issues, it is generally that first lambing. So, given that fact (and Reba’s propensity for the dramatic) I was keeping a close eye on her. Monday, nothing. Tuesday, nothing. Wednesday, Thursday and Friday, nothing. *sigh*

Now, in order for me to assure you (and myself) that nothing is indeed going on, I must go to the barn and physically check on Reba. (or whichever ewe is due) The cold weather demands that I don hat, coveralls, coat, boots and gloves. Every. Single. Time.  If the trip is in the middle of the night, which is also part of the job description, I have to have my headlamp as well. More often than not, I have a couple of lamb bottles tucked into my pockets. So, a trip to the barn is more like an expedition. And, lambing season is a marathon… (yes, I have heard of “barn cam”…but, it seems an awfully expensive option for a three week need)

And, if I wasn't going to the barn ALL the time, I'd miss out on seeing things like this...

He sleeps like this every night!

update on "lil Bitty"
she's up over 12 pounds!
today's warm temps means she won't need her sweater anymore

snowy lamb

one of the bottle babies
they are well over 20# now!

Finally, in the wee hours of Saturday morning, it appeared that THE TIME was finally here. Waited another hour…nothing. Two. Three. I was getting worried.

Not only was the labor NOT progressing, the Boss and I HAD to go to town for our sales delivery. I was torn. He needed me. The sheep needed me. (well, at least I thought they did)

Blondie and Tbone to the rescue!

Blondie went downtown with the Boss to do deliveries, while Tbone stayed here to give me some assistance if necessary.

While we didn’t need to do any of this special planning, here’s a special shout-out of thanks to Tbone for hanging out with me just in case. And, while it would have been kind of cool to have our “15 minutes of fame” and become Youtube sensations if we had been able to film Mamaw, Daddy and Baby Blake delivering a lamb…it’s probably for the best that we were still waiting when the Boss returned to the hill.

By this point, things didn’t look so imminent. As a matter of fact, I was beginning to wonder if I had imagined the whole thing. And, I was supposed to join the kids for a “painting party” over and Toughchick and the Man’s new house. The Boss assured me that he had it under control and I took off. (the new house is only 15 minutes away…so…)

yes, my daughter IS painting the ceiling
with her son on her back!
Don't call her Toughchick for nothin'

As I painted, I could hear the rest of the painting party talking and laughing as they worked in other parts of the house. I got to thinking how blessed my girls are. There were siblings and in-laws and extended family members all pitching in and getting the work done. Everyone was getting along. It doesn’t matter how hard things get…when you’ve got family like this, that’s there for you every time you need it…you are blessed. Not everyone is so blessed, I know this for a sad fact. But, I found yesterday’s work party most encouraging and somewhat inspiring. These people rock!

cousins

Blake and Mamaw takin' a break

While I was having these deep and profound thoughts, my phone rang.

It was the Boss.

Yep…the waiting was done!

I hadn’t been gone an hour and “Reba” finally lambed. There was another one coming…so, I did a little ovine mid-wifery by phone…but, it was really all about the Boss and Reba. And, they did a great job!

By the time I got home a couple hours later, the new family was comfortably settled in their little jug pen and adjusting to life in the barn. Another ewe/ram combo brings the present lamb count to 10.

new babies

More nice lambs, although I have some concerns about the little ewe. She has a case of entropion (in both eyes). This is when the lower eyelid turns in and allows the eyelashes to scrape along the eyeball. If this isn’t corrected, it will not only cause the sheep a great deal of discomfort, but it can lead to blindness. There are a number of simple remedies (that I will try first), but this seems to be a severe case. I am not really looking forward to treating this, as I have never attempted to use a needle anywhere near an eyeball. Yeah, ewwww. (an update may be necessary) This is hereditary, (generally from the ram) so, now we have yet another concern. We will be on the lookout for it as the rest of the lambs arrive.

see how weepy her eye looks?
This is from the irritation of the lashes on the cornea

My trips to the barn remain the focus of my life since the rest of the ewes are due by next Saturday. But, I’m going to change up with the coming week, because the first of February means it’s time to start seeds for the early broccoli crop! 

love the view through the greenhouse window

That should mean that the upcoming week will be one of ACTION! 

(seriously, all this waiting around has gotten incredibly OLD)

Apparently, Gus can't take the "excitement"...

Hope you’re having a Happy Sunday! 

Thanks for stopping by.  Come back and “visit” real soon!