I love how he loves her.

Back when we lived on the outskirts of DC I used the label “The Urban Homestead” on my cans & bottles, but that hardly applies now that we’re further out in the country. Besides, I think the Dervaes family has won the rights to that title hands-down.

So a new name was in order. Of all the names I could come up with though (trying to find some feature of our land to name it after rather than just pulling something from thin air), the only ones that seemed to fit were “Bog Hollow Farm” and “Long Hope Farm”, neither of which are really optimistic, you know? I also liked “These Two Hands Farm”, but it seemed to exclude Josh and Sofía.

But remember the other feature of our land (besides the swamp, the backfill soil, and the poison ivy)? Remember that impenetrable jungle that I rail and fight and rage against through all seasons? I’ve identified it – I think – as clethra alnifolia. Turns out, Clethra (despite sounding like a Greek STD) has kind of  a romantic common name: Summersweet.

Summersweet Farm. Isn’t that… for lack of a better word, sweet? Doesn’t it sound like a place where you’d pick really, really good strawberries?

So, is it pure folly to name my homestead after one of the banes of my existence, an aggressively invasive plant that I plan to sic a herd of goats on? Eh, well. My romanticism is of a somewhat cynical kind.

The tomatoes are stubbornly refusing to show signs of ripening – perhaps the vines are waiting to see if they’re going to be slaughtered by deer again – but if all goes well we should get at least a couple pounds of fruit per plant. Probably my smallest tomato harvest ever, but then I’ve never had my tomato plants mown down to the ground in mid June, either. At this point I will be so thankful to get any at all; I was devastated when I thought I should give up on them.

Hooray for healthy plants, and here’s to fighting back!

The watermelon on its own is great, but Sofía loves to crunch on the seeds and I’m not sure how good that is for her. Alternative: watermelon popsicles! The days are long and hot and just perfect for icy treats.

I mashed them and picked out the seeds, then blended the pulp. Add craft sticks and freezer time, and we’ve got a healthy, home-grown answer to a little girl’s begging for ice cream on a sweltering summer day.

Yet this afternoon I went out again to spend hours in the 92 degree, 75% humidity heat splitting another log because doggone it, I SAID I would finish this thing and I WILL!

Until I had a revelation. Who am I doing this for? Myself. Why am I doing it? To use up existing free resources. To prove I can construct a shelter from materials our own land provides, with just my own woman-power and old-fashioned methods. Am I satisfied that I could do it if our little family were suddenly stranded 200 years ago? More or less. Am I enjoying it? No. What would I do if I didn’t have to carve all this wood by hand? Tend the garden. Tend my daughter. Be kinder to myself. Be happier.

So before I went inside this afternoon I took all the cladding back apart. After dinner I went and bought – gasp! – plywood siding. The rafters and underlying post-and-beam structure will still be made from recycled and home-grown lumber, but you won’t know it to look at the outside. And honestly, the neighbors will like it better that way.

I’m disappointed in myself because it feels like I gave up too soon – that with more perseverance it would eventually come together. It feels like if only I were good enough, I should be able to make it work. But I am ruining my body and angering the neighbors with my wood-splitting banging; I am tired all the time and so less able to be a good mother and wife. I don’t believe a tool shed is worth it. I think I owe it to my family to force myself to just relax.

Sofía noticed right away.

“Mommy, can Sofía has pretty toeses too?”

Of course, my love.

“Mommy! Sofía has painty-painty toeses!”

Laughter and snuggles for all.

Only the far left log is nailed in place; the others are all loose like puzzle pieces, getting moved and turned this way and that, to see which way they fit best before being trimmed and nailed in place.

My borrowed sawzall really helps trim up the sides of the split logs so they will fit together better. Nowhere near perfect, unfortunately; there are gaps big enough to slip my flat hand through. Oh well, I don’t have to live in it. (Though after today I was thinking really, really hard about the benefits of just plywooding the other three sides, lemme tell ya.)

It was mid-90s today, but I was so sure I’d get this side finished & raised into place that I went out anyway. But durn it all if I didn’t run out of cladding! Splitting another 20′ log in the muggy tropical heat is no fun at all, but I suppose if I ever want to get this thing finished, that’s what I’ll be doing tomorrow… GRUMBLE.

Old-fashioned marigolds, not doing a very good job of keeping squash bugs off my pepper plants.

A meadow of pink, yellow, and blue weed flowers among the white buckwheat.

I don’t know what these flowers are called, bu they’re such a beautiful shade of blue.

Plain-Jane but oh-so-important peanut flowers!

On a trip to the Children’s Museum earlier today.

She quickly tired of the sparkly tutu and went instead for the caveman dreds, bat wings, and upside-down wand.

The plants’re all starting to look a bit sallow. It could be all the attacks by bugs, it could be (most likely, actually) late tomato blight, or it could be a need for a booster shot of calcium. Well, at least one of those I can take care of.

Eggshells to the rescue!

These powdered eggshells usually go right back to the chickens in their feed as an organic calcium supplement; but we have plenty so these can help my tomatoes and peppers. The shells will soak in this water for 24 hours and then I will mix it with another gallon or two of water and give all the plants a good soaking. The excess shell bits will get scattered on the ground around their roots.

(Because the shells are powdered, I’ll have to stir them every so often to make sure they all get soaked; if I’d used whole eggshells I probably wouldn’t have to. Bleh.)