It was the early morning of Wednesday the 13th that I parked my butt on the lean-back office chair that is continually perched in front of my computer.
My intention was to scribe a few words of the happenings of a couple of yesterdays. But that didn’t happen.
My son popped his head in the kitchen door, stating, “Thirteen! Betty had 13 babies!”
Just in case I haven’t updated you lately on the additions here on the farm, perhaps I should introduce you to Bobby, Betty and Wilma.
The three of them are the purebred Berkshire hog breeding stock that was purchased several months ago. They certainly could not be classified as the three little pigs, as they are big, they are black, they have white faces, they tamed quite easily, and they love to have their heads scratched.
Berkshire pigs are apparently not too common here in cattle and cottage country, for it is not unusual to see cars stopping on the road with their occupants watching said piggies romping, rooting and simply enjoying themselves in the mud hole that has been purposely created for them.
Wilma had four little pigs about two or more months ago, and although they are growing quite fast, they still like to nurse, so we have penned Betty in a corner location of the paddock until her babies reach two or three weeks old.
At that time, they will be able to run, squeal, and let mom know if they are being pushed around.
The radio has just announced that lake-enhanced frequent showers are on the way. This is good because we have not had a great amount in the last two weeks. The sunshine is great but moisture is needed.
The half acre of sweet corn that we planted is looking quite good. The early variety has tasseled out with a strong red tinge to it, while the three-week-later variety has tasseled with a strong yellow glow across the patch.
Although we do host over 30 hives of bees not far from the cornfield, we do not have to worry about them doing their job, as corn is a wind-pollinated plant, and that we have plenty of.
On doing the usual around-the-farm check on the handy John Deere Gator a couple of days ago, we stopped and checked the developing cobs and everything looks great. The rows are well filled out with no gaps in the kennel count.
Perhaps we will be able to keep with the lucky 13 trends and slip 13 cobs into the bag when each dozen is sold.
That brings back memories of when I helped my parents, who were vendors at the Guelph Farmer’s Market for 37 years hand-running. I was up into my early teens before I realized that a dozen was 12, not 13.
It was just my parents’ quiet, subtle way of keeping one up on the competition.
Take care, ’cause we care.
barrie@barriehopkins.ca
519-986-4105