Update: The Homestead Organic Journal
April 10: Semi-monthly self-reminders: I'm keeping a dubiously truthful farmer journal for my readers this year. I joined Peachland's Slow-Pitch Softball League. Large Spoonful of Mayonaisse, as a quickie-lunch-for-a-modern-farmer-on-the-go, is neither nutritionally sufficient nor very enjoyable.
April 11: Multiple farm-related trips to the post office this time of year. Peachland is blessed with really nice Canada Post Employees. Westbank, less so. At least not on Friday afternoons.
April 12: With Peachland Players, performed third showing of Bus Stop, or, as I assume two elderly attendees called it, Perfect Place to Verbally Compile Grocery List For Tomorrow, Notwithstanding Distraction of Dramatic Dialogue A Few Feet Away. Audiences otherwise wonderful.
April 14: Started cukes and zukes indoors for later transplanting. Those who have trouble germinating their cucurbits in flats and pots could try sprouting them first between layers of wet paper towel in a plastic freezer bag on the counter. Winter squash to be started within next couple of weeks, especially if one intends to win the largest pumpkin competition at this year's Fall Fair. Which I do. Though, having ordered more giant pumpkin seeds than one competitor can use, would be happy to pass on as many extra seedlings as I have to people hoping to place second. Would even provide some garden space here. Kids get first dibs but all are welcome...250 767 6636 is my number, he writes in his journal.
April 19: UK's The Guardian: China reveals that 20% of its farmland is polluted with toxic metals. Time to switch to Indian ginger.
Same: Lost two hours setting up some trellising with anchor posts that were too light and insufficiently deep. I would call my farming style hapless but it's not so much bad luck for me as it is dumb luck. Back when I was an apprentice farmer, the neighbour of my first teacher used to accuse him of frequently spending a dollar to save a nickel. Clearly I was paying attention.
April 20: Game three of Slow-Pitch today. Was moved from Right Field to Left because better fielders were absent. During first at bat, I perceptively noticed the third baseman was hanging back pretty far, and skillfully, neigh, masterfully tapped a bunt a few feet down the foul line before blazing to first. The cheers I expected were preempted by every player on both teams yelling that men weren't allowed to bunt. The jeering I took the rest of the game (they called me Kasey at the Bat...notice the spelling) was less about a broken rule (men can't bunt in slow-pitch) than a broken axiom (men don't bunt in slow-pitch). We lost 20-3. That's not a typo.
April 21: Dropped Vanessa off in Vancouver for her two month midwifery student placement in Uganda. Meaning: I can forget to apply deodorant and wear the same work pants for days on end with less guilt than usual. Also meaning: A Ugandan Hospital gains, and a Peachland Farm loses, a real good gal. Be safe Vern! Take care of her, Ugandans!