When August arrives it hits like an express train; suddenly everything needs to be done at once.  Corn needs to be picked, blanched and frozen; peaches need to be canned; fifty Cornish Rock crosses are ready to make the great Transition.  Milk is coming into the house at the rate of between fifteen and twenty gallons a DAY, and if it weren’t for the calves and pigs we would be drowning.

Today was a typical day, or rather on the relaxed side:  all we did was make a five-pound Appalachia (hard cheese) and some butter, freeze corn, pick blueberries, milk twice, move the cows’ paddock twice, thin mangels to feed the pigs, run into town for a couple of hours, cook and clean up after three meals, find housing for two turkey poults that came in from the pasture in somebody’s pocket, work on our various computer jobs, finish the wire in the windows of the hen coupe, pick seven gallons of green beans, process loads of laundry, do lots of dishes over and above the ones for meals, …I’m running out of ideas even though I’m sure I haven’t exhausted the day.