The second way I know it is winter is when I cannot put off the garden housekeeping anymore. \u00a0As night temperatures get too cold for some of the crops and as it gets so wet and rainy that the slugs advance into the crops covered by row covers, I gradually abandon the garden. \u00a0Lettuce, spinach and chard will limp along but pickings are slim and the ground really needs a rest before early spring crops go in by February. \u00a0So in winter it’s finally time to take down the remains of the summer garden and start covering the rows to smother the chickweed and henbit that want to take over. \u00a0This year I chose a beautiful sunny day with temperatures in the 40’s. \u00a0Which was cold enough for gloves for my fingers but warm enough for flip flops for my toes. \u00a0Perfect.<\/p>\n I left some of the nylon string and cattle panel trellises because I might be able to rotate the climbing crops without pulling those down. \u00a0But the last of the garden stakes, T-posts, rebar, and bamboo poles came out of the ground and were stacked by the fence.<\/p>\n All the twine, plant labels (AKA spoons with marker), and rocks used to hold shade cloth in place or divide seeding sections were gathered from the rows.<\/p>\n I gathered all the old, leaky tarps that are only good for gardening and laid them over the beds to smother weeds. \u00a0I held them in place by piling all the support cages on top of them and or leaving a pile of brush on the end to disintegrate over the rest of the winter.<\/p>\n When I ran out of tarps, I spread out some of the leaves that The Other Half hauled down to the garden for me when he was raking the back yard. \u00a0Leaves. \u00a0The never-ending resource that results from growing grass in the woods.<\/p>\n Then I turned all my gourds to keep them nice and round.<\/p>\n And called it a day. \u00a0‘Cause maybe my toes were a little bit cold. \u00a0When it’s too cold for flip flops during the garden housekeeping, it’s finally winter.<\/p>\n The last sure sign that winter is here shows up on the deck. \u00a0Winter means the arrival of Blackbeard. \u00a0We bought Blackbeard along with a small group of other Muscovy ducks back when we were raising and selling free range duck to restaurants. \u00a0All that started over 10 years ago which means she’s at least that old, but probably older because she arrived as an adult. \u00a0She quickly established herself as an excellent broody hen and a great mother—successfully hatching almost every egg in her nest and taking care of not only her own ducklings, but any ducklings of any age that were hatched in an incubator or hatched and abandoned by another duck.<\/p>\n She’s very friendly, allows herself to be petted (if you have food), and is scooped up pretty easily when necessary. \u00a0She’s smart enough to avoid the dogs in the backyard and predators down by the pond at night. \u00a0Her worst naughty habit is an occasional dip in the koi pond. \u00a0Which in a world of runaway Great Pyrs, magnolia-and-rose-bush-eating goats, and sheep that break off their horns in the fence, seems negligible.<\/p>\n When we sold off the duck part of the farm, we kept a few of our favorite ducks including Blackbeard. \u00a0But the remaining flock was unhappy with the decrease in numbers (from 300 ducks to a dozen) and all the rest of the ducks gradually migrated to neighboring farms or just flew off, never to be seen again. \u00a0All except Blackbeard. \u00a0Who stayed—swimming in the pond, browsing the woods, hanging out in the barn, and brooding a nest every year, whether it was some of her old infertile eggs or chicken eggs or whatever else she could find to feather and sit on.<\/p>\n I don’t know if ducks get lonely for other ducks. \u00a0But a few years ago a family came to choose their goat kid and saw Blackbeard in the barn. \u00a0They mentioned they had 1 runner duck at home that was the only remaining duck after their Great Pyr played with the other ones. \u00a0Played with them until they were dead. \u00a0(Oy.) \u00a0They offered to bring the duck to us for free when they were picking up their goat kid. \u00a0We agreed and Max became Blackbeard’s constant companion during spring, summer, and fall.<\/p>\n Sooner or later, though, I wake up to frost on the ground and Blackbeard on the deck. \u00a0As soon as I come out she comes over to me and I dutifully pass out a sprinkle of dog food. \u00a0The rest of the year she eats with the chickens or scavenges out of the pig trough or begs for grain in the goat’s feed room. \u00a0There’s plenty of food around this place. \u00a0So I never understand why she moves onto the deck each winter. \u00a0It’s just what she does. \u00a0And passing her a bit of dog food while we’re getting the feed for the Great Pyrs in the barn or the puppies in the house is just what we do in response.<\/p>\n Don’t take that to mean she’s patiently waiting for me when I eventually arrive outside. \u00a0Since I no longer have to milk I was looking forward to spending my mornings in the house, waiting for the weather to warm up and the hoses to unfreeze before heading out to the do animal feeding. \u00a0But now I have to turn my back to the big window while I’m sipping my coffee and reading the news. \u00a0Otherwise, I have to face\u00a0Blackbeard eyeing me through the window.<\/p>\n And eyeing me.<\/p>\n![\"\"](\"http:\/\/ruffledfeathersandspilledmilk.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/01\/chickens.jpg\" "\\"chickens\\"")
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