Day 118 of 365
First of all, if you are still with me, thank you. I am starting to wonder if this whole 365-day idea was a maybe a bad idea. Today, I am writing about carrots. I try to write a good essay every now and then, but today, it’s just carrots–carrots and worry.
This is “Carrots (Part 1)” because today we processed just what was left of our Oxheart carrots. These are sturdy, short, thick carrots from France, and I adore them. They have been feeding us and our farm shares for about two months, but it was time, well maybe past time, to pull them today. We chop them up into little sticks and eat them all winter in stir fry and lo main dishes. Our other carrots, some Yellowstone and Scarlet Nantes, will be cut into coins for stews and soups. We will eat no other carrots all year other than the carrots we grow. This is true for almost every single vegetable we eat. Maybe every single one. I can’t think of any vegetables that we buy at the store. We eat what we grow and just try to stick to it. This is how we make our dollars stretch far beyond what I might have ever imagined–and eat really good food at the same time. I should try to write more about how we do this later this week, perhaps, I am proud of us for this.
Oh, wait, I just thought of one vegetable we buy–peas for the ducks. I think that’s it though.
Today is also a day of worry. Tomorrow, I have to take my older kitty, my first cat, to the vet. She has been struggling for years with a variety of health problems. The vet told me last time “we are close.” If she has responded well to the medicine, she might have some more months. If she has not, well, then, I can’t write the words. Her name is Sophie. She is the most beautiful cat I have ever seen, and I adore her. I am hoping for a few more months, but the dread for tomorrow feels so heavy in my chest. It almost feels hard to breathe. Isn’t that strange?
So please send good vibes for Sophie. Oh, and I have a Ruby update. She has been living in the garage all summer, doing pretty well, avoiding the reality that fall is upon us, and come winter, she will have to back to the coop. Tonight, I couldn’t find her anywhere. Guess where she was! She was back in her crate and broody. I crawled into the crate and scooped her up and drug her out. She screamed and screamed at me.
“No more babies, Ruby,” I told her. I then closed the door on her crate, so she couldn’t go back inside. She sat in the garage and yelled and yelled at me. I, of course, could not let her have her way on this matter. That chicken!