Pot o' Gold

Sunrise, sunset, my changing environment, my world.  I never tire of looking at it all.  Having lost a few oaks in the past years, they are even more precious to me.  The golden beauty on the right is in the middle of the front pasture and I can't imagine why it is still standing.  The entire core of the tree is gone, just an outer shell remains, but it fights to stay alive, leafing out in spring and going through the cycle year after year.  A huge branch (TG thinks about a cord of wood's worth) broke and fell from the oak on the left at the edge of my mini-forest.  TG assures me it is only because they are so old.  Somehow I think trees should last forever, even though I know that is not how life works.

Tree Guy and No. 2 Son showed up just as I stepped out the door yesterday morning.  Before we could converse, I had to throw down seed for the impatiently waiting turkey tribe.  TG and Son think I'm batty, as they've been hunting turkeys for dinner the past week (without much success, I might add).  I told him to quit drooling and get back to our plan.

Since the big oak over the barn died, the milking room is a veritable sauna in the summer without shade.  The plan is this:  TG is going to trench an irrigation line down the two-hundred feet of fence line between the two goat pens and plant a series of fruited mulberry trees, placed so that the barn will be shaded from the rising sun.  That will give me time to get in, get the chores done, and get out before the metal roof really heats up.  Until each tree gets big enough, they will have to have substantial fencing to keep the girls from decimating the saplings.  I chose fruited mulberries for a number of reasons:  they grow fast, have large leaves, the blossoms will draw bees (and be so pretty!), and the fruit will feed the birds, the goats, and maybe there'll be some left for me.  The trees are deciduous, so the girls will get additional snacks when the leaves drop in the fall.  The guys should start digging today.

As the saying goes, if you want to hear God laugh, tell him your plans.  That's the plan.