Savoring Summer (Before July Becomes August and Winter Prep Begins)

What’s the point of having the life of your dreams if you don’t at least spend some time enjoying it?

Hefting the bundle of electric-net fencing onto my shoulder, I threaded my way through grasses and wildflowers. The overcast morning had cleared, turning humid as July often does here.

Even dripping with sweat and wading through the thick air, I revel in the authenticity of it all. With August looming, I’ve made a point of savoring summer this week, knowing these days are fleeting…

Welcome to the latest Updates From the Farm! If you are new here, I invite you to check out my About page to learn what this is, who I am and why I am doing this. Or just dive right in! At “Runamuk Acres” you’ll find the recantings of one lady-farmer and tree-hugging activist from the western mountains of Maine. #foodieswanted

In This Post:

Moving the Rams
How I Move Sheep
Testimony
Savoring Summer
The Life I’d Imagined
Community Updates
Before July Becomes August

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Moving the Rams

Our field grows unevenly—some spots still sparse with forage, others thick with clover and vetch. This section reaches my chest and so tangled with vetch that it catches my feet, making progress arduous.

Carrying the net-fence makes it more hazardous, and I’ve long since learned to keep the bundle high on my shoulder to avoid tangling my feet in the netting.

Having spent the morning working for one of my garden clients, my already sore muscles burned with the fence’s weight, but I pushed onward.

Bumblebees trundled away as I came forth, disturbing their harvestings. Honeybees and all manner of native pollinating bees, too, cleared the way for their lumbering farmer.

Monarchs flitted about, along with a good many butterfly species which I cannot name.

Less endearing insects swarmed about me, too—black flies, midges ,and horse-flies.

Keeping my hat brim low, I did my best to ignore them and tried not to think about the spiders clinging to webs between the grasses. Instead, I focused on laying out the fencing without tripping on net or vetch, concentrating on moving the rams onto a fresh patch of grass.

Murphy, now 12, prefers to stay in the house near the AC during these chores. But Beebe likes the responsibility of “keeping me company”, and finds herself a patch of shade under the ram’s truck-cap shelter while I do my work.

How I Move Sheep

Since 2019, I’ve perfected this sheep-moving process. Here’s how I do it:

1. Lay out the reserve fence I’ve kept back for the express purpose of moving the sheep. Using this I create a smallish “box” adjacent the old patch, allowing me to release the flock onto fresh grass. With the sheep happily grazing, I can perform move the rest of their camp without risk of runaways.

2. Disconnect the “pig-tail” (the insulated electrical wire that connects the net fences to the high-tensile fence that runs current up through the middle of the field) and take up the fences from their previous encampment. Each group (rams and ewes) has three 150-feet lengths.

3. With the fences cleared, I haul the livestock shelter using the heavy duty dolly and a lot of lady-power. Water buckets and supplement dispenser are easier to move before reinstalling fences.

4. Lay out each net-fence length on the grass to gauge spacing. I’ve learned it’s much easier to adjust the positioning while it’s laying down than it is once erected.

5. Begin putting the fences up, poking each fiberglass post’s spike into the earth. In growth like this, I need to “crimp” the grasses with my feet: folding them over and packing them down to create a path for the fencing without being grounded out by every blade of grass or waving milkweed.

6. Once the fence is standing, I’ll walk the perimeter again—adjusting posts for tautness and sweeping grasses and milkweed plants out from under the fence.

7. Reconnecting the insulated cable means dragging it across the field between grazing areas and the high-tensile fence. Fishing the bolt and nut from my pocket, I attach it to the net-fence, ensuring proper positioning.

8. When everything is the way I want it, I’ll finally remove the extra length of fence containing the flock and—voilà! They’re moved!

Here’s a diagram I made for those who need/like a visual:

Testimony

Retrieving my water thermos from the rusty old Forrester nearby, I take a long drink, surveying the field as I catch my breath.

In the late afternoon’s golden light, I can see myriad insects filling the air above the grasses and wildflowers. The air is thick with them—dragonflies zipping here and there. Others seeming to just float in midair.

Their abundance is a testimony of the work I am doing. All of the effort to move not one—but two—flocks of sheep in rotation around this ten-acre pasture directly benefits soil microbial life, which in turn promotes healthier plants and supporting more insect life than ever before.

Savoring Summer

It’s BraeTek’s night to cook, affording me a bit of time for savoring summer. After a quick trip to the farmhouse to feed both dogs, I drove back across the field in my makeshift “farm-truck”—that old rusty Subaru Forrester.

Parking in the shade of an arching poplar that once stood straight and tall, but bent under the burden of winter snow several years ago. Like many poplars, it never quite recovered, but I am thankful for the shade it provides and the grasses there refuse to grow, since it is frequently beaten back by tire tread.

Reclaiming myself after my stint in the school kitchen has taken longer than I’d expected—rebuilding neglected routines and muscles. Yet, these morning and afternoon walks in the woods with the dogs have become increasingly frequent.

The dogs wait impatiently as I gather my things—spraying my hat with the same bug spray I use on the sheep, my phone (for pictures) in one pocket, pipe in another.

Finally ready with a beer in hand, I turn to the dogs, “Wanna go swimming?”

Beebe bounces twice, her floppy ears perked up, while Murphy stands alert and ready.

“Okay! Let’s go!” I say, and they are off like a shot.

Dipping under the low-hanging branches arching over the rutted twin tracks leading into the forest, I sucked in a breath of the refreshingly cool air. It even smells different and I relish the pungent, earthy scent as I follow the dogs onto the snowmobile trail cutting through the back 40.

It’s a short walk to the spot where we break from the beaten snowmobile trail. At top speed, Beebe loves threading her way through the trees on either side of the trail, ranging around me in wide circles. With two large dogs in tow, I know I have nothing to fear.

Veering onto an overgrown path, we make our way to the tiny stream and the wetland habitat at my property’s furthest reaches.

Trail maintenance remains on my to-do list, and things are very overgrown here.

The dogs arrive ahead of me. Their splashing tells me they are enjoying themselves. Beebe likes to lay her bulk in the cold water (maybe 18 inches at it’s deepest)—then bounding from tussock to tussock inspecting tell-tale scents.

The Life I’d Imagined

Wild blueberry bushes along the path waylaid me.

It’s peak blueberry season here in Maine, and I prefer the wild varieties to the cultivated ones. Without shame, I immersed myself in plucking perfectly ripe, sun-warmed berries, popping each into my mouth like the delectable treat that they are.

THIS is the life I’d imagined, I thought with satisfaction.

I’d had a full day:

• 4-6am - Writing

• 7am - Critter-chores

• 8am - Load tools and BraeTek in the car, and off to tend gardens, earning a bit of cash to grease the wheels.

• 12-1pm - Home for lunchbreak

• 1-2pm - Wash dishes and tidy the kitchen

• 2-3:30 - Move sheep

• 4pm - A glorious walk in the woods with the dogs.

On the mornings when we’re not working for others, we work for ourselves—checking projects off our list one at a time.

Community Updates

IN CASE YOU MISSED IT:

➡️The latest from my Eco-Farm Strategies newsletter:

The Soil Microbiome Revolution: Your Farm's Invisible Workforce

Before July Becomes August

Too many seasons have passed when I have been too consumed by the farm’s never-ending to-do list. With just days left before July becomes August, I am determined to savor summer this year. Afterall, what’s the point of having the life of your dreams if you don’t at least spend some time enjoying it?

Today is Saturday, and of course I will spend some time in the garden—working for me, not for someone else.

But this afternoon my sister is joining us for a campfire dinner. And there will undoubtedly be board games with good-natured teasing.

Once August arrives, I’ll start thinking about winter preparations in earnest. For now, I am content to languish in the resplendent beauty of late-July on this small farm amid the western Maine mountains.

No matter how you subscribe, I thank you just for reading.

Sending love and good juju to you and yours.
Your friendly neighborhood farmer,

Sam

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Thank you for following along with the story of this lady-farmer! It is truly a privilege to live this life serving my family and community, and protecting wildlife through agricultural conservation. If you found this valuable, please consider Restacking so more people can see it!

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