Let there be light
Aug. 23rd, 2020 22:39![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
torquillOne week.
That's all I get. One week before the water box screen silts up again.
There has been an extraordinary amount of silt in the water for the dry months, come to think of it. I had figured it was from my mucking with the screen and increasing the flow to the box, which dislodges collected silt inside the screen. But days after that increased flow, we are still getting water that isn't *quite* clear, and it only took a week for enough to accumulate that it formed a plug in the line, even with full flow going through the box all the time. That's not normal.
This is all probably connected to the fact that when I went up to the fork in the road on Saturday, which is about a mile further along, the entire hilltop had been logged recently. I remember it was that way in June, so it was probably done this spring; it's even more likely, given the huge parcel, that they started last fall and finished it off this spring. That would explain Jenny's water problems last winter as well. They're quite careful about watersheds and heavy equipment, but the fact remains that they're pushing dirt around and stripping away the vegetation, and some soil movement is inevitable. It will probably taper off within a year, but this winter may be particularly rough. I'm contemplating buying a pitcher pump at one of the farm supply stores like Wilco, assuming they have one in stock or short-term order, and setting it up so that the rain barrel is not Jenny's only water supply this winter. The nice thing about a pump like that is that the pipe is empty, so it won't freeze.
I probably won't go up to fix the water tomorrow; we can manage for a day, even if the trickle stops, and I've had an active couple of days. I need to go into Salem for supplies, and the box can wait until tomorrow afternoon or (more likely) Tuesday morning. Conrad will be up in the early afternoon to work on power to the Annex, if he sticks to his stated intention of two weeks ago.
We also have a potential buyer for the old wood-burning cookstove Tuesday afternoon. Despite the inevitable crowding of vehicles, the timing feels like it should work out.
I spent today doing rather more work than I intended. I started to poke at the middle pasture next to the Shippen, and ended up clearing nearly the entire space under the white poplar. The silver tree, as it's referred to here, has a trunk about three feet across, and that's a replacement from when it fell over some years back. A combination of Himalayan blackberry (with canes an inch in diameter) and a vigorous Concord grape have been pulling it down for years, causing broken branches (one of those is nearly 16 inches across) and giving it a spreading habit rather than its normal upright shape. The drip line on that tree is maybe twenty feet across, making this a very large area full of canes and brush that needed clearing out. I decided that what the tree really needed was to be relieved of the weight of the vines, so I air-gapped it -- I created a space of at least three feet, often six or more, between the underbrush and the tree. Since there's no way to haul the grapes and blackberries out of the huge canopy, this was the most effective way I could think of.
It created a lot of pruning trash and a large pile of branches, and boy I was tired after several hours. The northeast corner is blocked by that huge limb that was pulled down, so I'll have to get to that around the outside. Eventually I'll need to bring a ladder in (that will be fun, between the soft gopher-riddled soil and the large pieces of half-rotted branches) and take down the damaged and broken limbs with the chainsaw. That may be considerably further down the line, however. Ultimately I'd like to shape this tree back to a mostly upright habit, but that will probably take years.
For now, there is dappled sunlight under it again rather than perpetual twilight, and the vines and brambles left in the canopy will dry out and stop putting stress on the tree. Maybe, with less stress, it will stop putting up vigorous suckers everywhere it can. Jenny doesn't recall it suckering this badly in the past, and neither do I; stress can certainly do that to a poplar. Better fertility and sheep grazing may also help it break that habit.
Before dinner I had a better look at the near pasture, by standing on a fallen tree at the fence line. All I could see was horsetail and Canada thistle. It'll be poor grazing for sure, though I accept Jenny's advice that turning sheep loose in it will trample the weeds and bring to light whatever grass is actually there. I may divide it in half, if the lower half is still marshy from the deranged streambed, and try to improve it half at a time... Sheep could manage even in poor pasture if I supplement with hay and comfrey at a hayrick/feeding station. Hay for two sheep wouldn't cost much, and I have tons of comfrey that will regrow in no time flat if I allow it to. Apparently it makes very good feed. It would, at least, allow me to get a start on that pasture. The upper pasture, which is still mostly (thin) grass, is the best grazing, and probably where they would spend most of their time.
I'm hoping to improve the drainage considerably even by next year, though, if I can get drains into the beaver dams next month. Proper drainage would lower the water level enough to give me back half of the middle pasture, and -- I hope -- eliminate the thin sheet of surface water running over the near pasture I saw in March. It would also keep the leachfield from flooding, like it did this spring. All in all, the mischief that regular beaver habitation has caused in the eastern creek has been extensive, and I'm looking forward to reclaiming some of that marsh again. Even if the actual drain installation is as wet, muddy, and exhausting as it looks from here...
Part of me really wants sheep as soon as possible, because some improvements really can't be done without them. But then I look at some things, like the fences, and the marsh, and the broken steps on the back of the Shippen, and I'm glad I'm waiting another year. At the very least I need better fences, which will happen in the spring when the weeds are down. Right now I can barely get to them, wading through chest-high weeds.
At any rate, that's where things stand for now.
That's all I get. One week before the water box screen silts up again.
There has been an extraordinary amount of silt in the water for the dry months, come to think of it. I had figured it was from my mucking with the screen and increasing the flow to the box, which dislodges collected silt inside the screen. But days after that increased flow, we are still getting water that isn't *quite* clear, and it only took a week for enough to accumulate that it formed a plug in the line, even with full flow going through the box all the time. That's not normal.
This is all probably connected to the fact that when I went up to the fork in the road on Saturday, which is about a mile further along, the entire hilltop had been logged recently. I remember it was that way in June, so it was probably done this spring; it's even more likely, given the huge parcel, that they started last fall and finished it off this spring. That would explain Jenny's water problems last winter as well. They're quite careful about watersheds and heavy equipment, but the fact remains that they're pushing dirt around and stripping away the vegetation, and some soil movement is inevitable. It will probably taper off within a year, but this winter may be particularly rough. I'm contemplating buying a pitcher pump at one of the farm supply stores like Wilco, assuming they have one in stock or short-term order, and setting it up so that the rain barrel is not Jenny's only water supply this winter. The nice thing about a pump like that is that the pipe is empty, so it won't freeze.
I probably won't go up to fix the water tomorrow; we can manage for a day, even if the trickle stops, and I've had an active couple of days. I need to go into Salem for supplies, and the box can wait until tomorrow afternoon or (more likely) Tuesday morning. Conrad will be up in the early afternoon to work on power to the Annex, if he sticks to his stated intention of two weeks ago.
We also have a potential buyer for the old wood-burning cookstove Tuesday afternoon. Despite the inevitable crowding of vehicles, the timing feels like it should work out.
I spent today doing rather more work than I intended. I started to poke at the middle pasture next to the Shippen, and ended up clearing nearly the entire space under the white poplar. The silver tree, as it's referred to here, has a trunk about three feet across, and that's a replacement from when it fell over some years back. A combination of Himalayan blackberry (with canes an inch in diameter) and a vigorous Concord grape have been pulling it down for years, causing broken branches (one of those is nearly 16 inches across) and giving it a spreading habit rather than its normal upright shape. The drip line on that tree is maybe twenty feet across, making this a very large area full of canes and brush that needed clearing out. I decided that what the tree really needed was to be relieved of the weight of the vines, so I air-gapped it -- I created a space of at least three feet, often six or more, between the underbrush and the tree. Since there's no way to haul the grapes and blackberries out of the huge canopy, this was the most effective way I could think of.
It created a lot of pruning trash and a large pile of branches, and boy I was tired after several hours. The northeast corner is blocked by that huge limb that was pulled down, so I'll have to get to that around the outside. Eventually I'll need to bring a ladder in (that will be fun, between the soft gopher-riddled soil and the large pieces of half-rotted branches) and take down the damaged and broken limbs with the chainsaw. That may be considerably further down the line, however. Ultimately I'd like to shape this tree back to a mostly upright habit, but that will probably take years.
For now, there is dappled sunlight under it again rather than perpetual twilight, and the vines and brambles left in the canopy will dry out and stop putting stress on the tree. Maybe, with less stress, it will stop putting up vigorous suckers everywhere it can. Jenny doesn't recall it suckering this badly in the past, and neither do I; stress can certainly do that to a poplar. Better fertility and sheep grazing may also help it break that habit.
Before dinner I had a better look at the near pasture, by standing on a fallen tree at the fence line. All I could see was horsetail and Canada thistle. It'll be poor grazing for sure, though I accept Jenny's advice that turning sheep loose in it will trample the weeds and bring to light whatever grass is actually there. I may divide it in half, if the lower half is still marshy from the deranged streambed, and try to improve it half at a time... Sheep could manage even in poor pasture if I supplement with hay and comfrey at a hayrick/feeding station. Hay for two sheep wouldn't cost much, and I have tons of comfrey that will regrow in no time flat if I allow it to. Apparently it makes very good feed. It would, at least, allow me to get a start on that pasture. The upper pasture, which is still mostly (thin) grass, is the best grazing, and probably where they would spend most of their time.
I'm hoping to improve the drainage considerably even by next year, though, if I can get drains into the beaver dams next month. Proper drainage would lower the water level enough to give me back half of the middle pasture, and -- I hope -- eliminate the thin sheet of surface water running over the near pasture I saw in March. It would also keep the leachfield from flooding, like it did this spring. All in all, the mischief that regular beaver habitation has caused in the eastern creek has been extensive, and I'm looking forward to reclaiming some of that marsh again. Even if the actual drain installation is as wet, muddy, and exhausting as it looks from here...
Part of me really wants sheep as soon as possible, because some improvements really can't be done without them. But then I look at some things, like the fences, and the marsh, and the broken steps on the back of the Shippen, and I'm glad I'm waiting another year. At the very least I need better fences, which will happen in the spring when the weeds are down. Right now I can barely get to them, wading through chest-high weeds.
At any rate, that's where things stand for now.