We’ve had two hard frosts. A hard frost is one that comes at night and covers the lawn with a shimmer of sparkling white. It lasts until after the sun rises into mid-morning. Your cold-sensitive plants wilt. A day later, they turn brown. When the weather report warns of a frost, conscientious gardeners get out and harvest the last of the annuals and save every tomato still left on the vine.

I didn’t.

 

I filled

with the rotting vegetation and dumped it into the compost bins in the chicken runs.

 

The hens are gleeful that I am such a lackadaisical gardener.

I appreciate that they quickly destroy evidence of indolence.

Despite the fact that hens have strong and active dinosaur feet, and that they use them to dig holes and scratch the ground for hours on end, the dirt in the run does get packed down. Although I frequently rake up manure, much of the hens’ waste sinks into the earth, but it doesn’t disappear. The soil becomes compacted and over time as hard as cement. Pathogens accumulate. Once a year, I turn it over with a

. Not only does this improve drainage, but it also exposes germs and lurking insects to disinfecting sunlight – two essential components of my management plant to keep my flock healthy.

I used to do this hard chore myself, but now my teenage son does it. You can see how the dense and impervious to rain it had become. We don’t have clay soil here – those chunks are all due to manure and the ground being pounded on by chicken feet.

 

To loosen things up, I bought bags of all-purpose sand.

 

These aren’t so big, but weigh 70 pounds each! I appreciate having that teenager.

(Note that the

hanging on the right is filled with

Auto Amazon Links: No products found. http_request_failed: A valid URL was not provided. URL: https://ws-na.amazon-adsystem.com/widgets/q?SearchIndex=All&multipageStart=0&multipageCount=20&Operation=GetResults&Keywords=B000MD59TC&InstanceId=0&TemplateId=MobileSearchResults&ServiceVersion=20070822&MarketPlace=US Cache: AAL_5edc730a3e2ffa5b50374c02a85a6b79

– a calcium supplement. Offered like that, free choice, but up off of the ground, is tidy and prevents waste.)

Three bags of sand in each chicken run are enough to aerate the soil. Right now everything is uneven and in big chunks. But the hens will set to work and smooth things out. Phoebe and the goats watch.

 

The last two mornings saw hard frosts. Today it was 28 degrees F when the hens were let out. The ground is hard, and there aren’t many bugs to scratch for. It might be awhile before the Girls are finished smoothing out the surface of the run. That’s okay. Change like this adds interest to their lives. In the meanwhile, those piles of sand make excellent dust bathing spots, and even with this cold weather, the hens will have their baths.

Today might possibly have been the most perfect day to be out in the woods all year. This morning the biting insects were gone. Fallen leaves that smelled sweet, and yet somehow like old campfires, were underfoot. The sky was blue and the sun lit up the leaves still in the trees so that the world glowed like old stained glass.

I had the perfect vantage point to take it all in.

 

Last weekend Tonka and I were in a dressage show. We placed second and third in our class. A couple of people, watching the competition, commented to me how nicely my horse and I worked together. Tonka and I do practice hard at our dressage patterns, but being harmonious comes from more than that. It comes from wandering in the woods, too. Horses are designed to move, mostly at a walk, for long distances, every day. They’re curious animals who are primed to look ahead. But they’re not animals who like to go out alone. We’re glad for each other’s company. Today we walked for five miles.

This is the first time that Tonka and I explored the paths at a nearby state forest. Anytime that I put Tonka into the trailer and go somewhere new, I have a tiny case of nerves. As good as my horse is, so much can go wrong. This time of year, ground wasps are on the attack. Deer bound across your path. Mountain bikers careen around corners.

None of those things happened today. When we were deep into the woods, Tonka neighed loudly as if to ask Where is everybody?

We didn’t see any bikers, or walkers with dogs. However, there were squirrels and birds, and gusts of wind pelted us with acorns.

 

This forest is populated with trees that turn yellow in hue.

 

I saw a flash of color through the woods and so we took a detour to the river. We were heading home, and he knew it, but Tonka willingly left the main route and marched right over, through belly-high ragweed, as if he knew that there was going to be something wonderful to see.

There was.

I believe that Tonka enjoyed the view as much as I did.

 

Are you tired of photographs of molting hens in all of their ridiculousness?

Agatha says, Well, we’re tired of it! Don’t, DO NOT look at my sister.

 

Oh no! Especially not the rear view.

 

And what’s with that one white feather, Florence? We’re Speckled Sussex hens. We’re not supposed to have solid white feathers.

 

You can try to hide in the pumpkin, but unfortunately, we can still see you.

 

I don’t know what you’re going on about, hmmphs Florence.

I’m pleased to report that Lily’s cruciate tear of her right hip joint has mended enough that she can stand squarely on all fours.

 

She still limps. but she no longer appears to be in pain. She’s now allowed to course around the backyard, sniffing out the story of what has been going on while she has been dozing inside. Still, I need to protect both hips from further deterioration, and so most of Lily’s day is spent napping at my feet. This seems to be fine with her. Lily is twelve and is enjoying her rest.

The community of wild animals that live near my house know that Good Farm Dog Lily is old. The other day I watched from the window as a squirrel meandered across the yard and then drank from the pond. Even a year ago, a squirrel would never have dared to do this, as there was no telling when that streak of a dog would take off and go for the kill.

Lily used to keep other animals in check, too. I hadn’t realized the extent to which she impacted on the denizens of pond until the snakes moved in.

 

Over the years snakes have tried to take up residency. The pond is a perfect habitat – warm rocks, plenty of food, hiding places. But Lily always dispatched the interloper. She doesn’t like snakes. I don’t either. Up until now, the snakes that I did see on the property were small. Lily made sure they didn’t reach full size. But look at how big that one is!

I could deal with one snake. But garter snakes gather in groups.

 

Before winter, they form aggregations and then hibernate together. Then, in the spring, they’ll get into mating balls. Ugh.

 

I’ve seen a hawk catch and eat a snake. Maybe, now that Lily isn’t chasing the hawks from the sky, they’ll come down and eat the snakes.

This is a lesson in how each member of a community impacts all of the others. Even the ones you don’t usually see or think about. I can ponder that for a short moment – and then get right back to the I don’t like snakes thought. Makes me appreciate all of those years that Lily was a working farm dog. She deserves her retirement, but I miss having a working farm dog!