A decision has finally been made. We will be building a straw bale house out at the farmstead. This should be interesting.
Here on my homestead. I replanted the peas. And once again reminded myself why I hate clay soil. Hate isn't a strong enough word, loathe, I loathe clay soil. Now clay soil does have good qualities. Just remember the bigger the seed, the easier it grows in clay. But breaking it up by hand, is well, a tad painful.
They burned the fields all around us yesterday. I didn't go searching for the fires. The wind was calm, and the air was thick with smoke. It's that time of year and most everyone knows what is going on. I say most, because people were calling the news stations and fire departments about the smoke. Last year a neighbor that moved out here from the city (she no longer lives out here) called the police about my mentors fields burning. She screamed at the cops, and screamed at me when she told me about it. I actually felt bad for her. I have lived in Kansas most my life, not in the country, and even I knew they burned fields for spring planting. But this woman was so angry about it, and I still really don't know why. She was mad about smoke going over the roads. She said they should put up signs warning people. They do that on the highway, not on the dirt roads. I am sure that most people see the smoke or see the flames and have a notion that fields were being burned. Not the farmers fault if the wind picks up and the smoke crosses the road. I felt like she would file suit against my mentor any moment.
Speaking of my late mentor, I have a story about him. I think it is funny. Personally when I heard it, I grinned for a very long time. My late mentor was in his 80's. He has been farming this land down the road from us for almost his entire life. Then the farm across the way sold his land, some of his land, and a man bought it, and put 5 acre plots up. My mentor was never very thrilled about it, and I can understand why. His house faces this glorified trailer park. The house closest to him, tore down their old trailer, replacing it with another. The wood from the old home was stacked up in the back of their field for over a year, not neatly stacked, more like thrown and piled up like a future bonfire. My mentor asked them a few times to do something with all the trash. Over and over. Soon the people put up no trespassing signs and kept the pile right were it was. In the middle of a bright day, the old farmer walked across the road, ripped down the no trespassing signs (there was no fence, just a stick with the sign) and set fire to that pile of rotting wood. The fire department came out, and just watched it burn. The old farmer was going to be hit with trespassing and arson charges. I of course giggled when I heard that. He hadn't done it on a burn ban day, and no one was hurt, nor any property (unless you have emotional attachment to the rotted wood and a sign on a stick). He was just tired of looking at it. Then he got into his airplane and flew around like he always did. He was just an ornery old man, and got grumpy when people didn't listen to his side of it.
It's rather lonely without him and his plane here anymore. I miss seeing that plane, and seeing his barn storming friends coming to visit. I know a few other homesteaders, but they are all urban. I adore them, but there is a difference in what we do. And sometimes I really want to talk to a rural steader. The family we buy our hay from, he is the only one interested in farming, she wants to go back to the city. She won't let him have cattle, all they do is grow hay. ~sigh~