8/3 Today we picked the white apples. They have skins the color of old yellowed bones, and translucent flesh so that when you slice them open you can see the seeds through the flesh. Bone-and-glass apples, parchment apples, ghost apples.
They bruise easily, a purplish brown rather too similar to a bruise on human skin. If you pick one up, there’s a good chance the shapes of your fingertips will be marked on it the next day. I want to try writing words on them by pressing on them with a pencil eraser sometime.
They smell very faintly of perfume, maybe roses. They do not smell like apples. Apple maggots never infest them.
They’re lovely. They are also disgusting. Mealy and soft, with no flavor whatsoever. They’re not sweet. They’re not even sour. It’s like a mouth full of wet cotton ball. I’m pretty sure I spit it out the first time I tried one.
I hope you all understand how weird this is: even the goats are reluctant to eat them. They’ll eat an apple or two, but then they lose interest (except in keeping the sheep from eating any, of course).
I have no idea why a previous resident planted the ghost-apple tree. If they have any flavor at all, only the restless dead can taste it.
pinkrangerv can have them all. :) We’ve tried making applesauce, though. Not even that helped.
( PS I’m trying to act all mysterious about it, but the actual reason they don’t get infested by apple maggots is probably that their growing time is too short to support the apple maggot fly life cycle. It’ll probably be another month or two before the rest of our apples are ripe. )
8/2 Tonight there were Mysterious But Difficult To Photograph Glowing Orbs In The Moonlight! Finally, conclusive proof of ghosts or aliens or ghost aliens or alien ghosts or something very mysterious like that. Hovering right in the white-apple tree, which I have totally coincidentally also posted a picture of.
Today we dewormed the sheep and the goats. Goat hooves need trimmed, too.
8/1 Is that … a bunch of rays of light radiating from the goat shed? What are they doing back there now?
7/31 Soup-Nose let herself out of the goat pasture again. Soup knows we hate having apples to make appley booze with. We especially hate sharing appley booze with friends around a crackling bonfire on an autumn day with a perfect dark blue sky and maybe drums or a guitar. Or standing around the woodstove on a still soft winter evening drinking warm cider with cinnamon out of heavy black mugs.
So Soup Nose nobly offered to rescue us from all that dreadfulness by aggressively pruning the apple orchard. Isn’t that considerate? What a polite goat. Why, last year she ate so much of one of the trees it isn’t making any fruit this year!
Of course, that’s way too generous a gift. We simply cannot accept. We signified our formal refusal by patching the brand new hole in the sheep pasture fence.
Or tried to, anyway, until Tesseract picked up and ran off with the fencing wire.
Goats: So Very Polite You Have No Idea.
7/30 There’s probably something cuter than happy goats with grass hanging out of their mouths, but don’t tell these goats about it. Especially don’t tell them the exact coordinates of the cuter object, ‘cause they have a satellite and a death ray.
you, my friend, are like a wonderful, unapologetically-less-glamorous, better-written, stocked-with-evilly-snickering-evilly-mischievous goats-and attention-demanding-lumps-of-grey-that-go-meow real life harvest moon. i can now only await the inevitable cutesy lovey-dovey cutscene between you and the gracious blue-haired-gf
7/29 First ripe fig of the year! It appears to contain a small wormhole opening to a nebula somewhere. A delicious nebula.
The Blue Haired Girlfriend solved the Mystery of the Sheep Scours! It’s all the fault of … the feral cats!
The soil here is swampy clay with only two states: “mud” and “rock,” so the feral cats can’t bury their pee. Usually they just sort of drape some grass over it and stalk away in annoyed disgust. But, in the depths of the sheep pasture, there is a perfect place to pee: a trough full of salt, iron oxide, and anti-clumping chemicals. Verily, the heavens open and angels serenade any cat who pees in the Trough of Righteousness!
For some reason, the sheep were not terribly interested in Gourmet Mineral Supplements With Cat Pee Sauce. Sheep just don’t understand about fancy cuisine. So the sheep decided to seek iron elsewhere, such as in the leaves of the Most Terrifying Bringer of Scours, the creeping buttercup. Squishypoops and DOOM resulted.
So now the plan is
cook cats with peanut saucecheck the mineral trough frequently and rinse and refill it when necessary. Scouring has already lessened.
Mmmm, peanut sauce.
7/28 Newly tailless fancybird struts his stuff for the Sexy Deflated Basketball. The Sexy Deflated Basketball is … as impressed as it ever is, I guess. The Sexy Deflated Basketball doesn’t care that he looks like a shiny blue lime with old man legs.
Day 21 of AUGH WHY IS THERE SHEEP DIARRHEA EVERYWHERE.
Can I come live on your farm? I don't take up much space and I don't mind sheep poop.
Oh, sure, that seems perfectly reason- wait. Are you a feral cat?
A feral cat balancing on top of fence post to prove you “don’t take up much space”?
… wait, are you three feral cats balancing on a fence post to prove you “don’t take up much space”??
Uh oh, the cats have discovered the internet. I knew those stripey wifi antennas on their butts were trouble.
7/27 Changed my mind. Not going to die by drowning in sheep excrement (even though this is Day Twenty of Sheep Scouring). Going to die by suffocating in molted peacock tail fathers first. How can two fancybirds shed this many tail feathers? We have gathered armloads every day and are piling them on every flat surface in the house.
Oh well, at least I’ll be an awesome-looking corpse. Just how I always wanted to die: iridescent green and covered with hundreds of unblinking eyes! Woo!