Wearing shiny new black paint, for the first time in 50 years.
Tyler and I have been making steadier progress on our two Volkswagen Beetle projects lately. I took both chassis/floorpans and ten wheels to a local sandblaster, and we’ve been working on priming and painting them all.
The primer grey pan in front is for my 1962 sunroof Beetle, and the bare metal pan in back is Tyler’s ’63.
I’ve also finished painting my widened wheels in Volkswagen L87 Perl Weiss (Pearl White), which is the color my car will be when done.
Been a while since posting any updates… life’s been very full! The hay field is coming in fairly well, but where did all that buttonweed come from? I realize now I should have seeded much heavier than I did, but I was basing my rate on the last time I reseeded the field, and wasn’t thinking that I had the oats in a separate bin on the grain drill then, and was effectively seeding at twice the rate I did this time. Hopefully the weeds will get choked out after it gets cut a few times.
The more interesting update to most folks will be the little surprise that greeted me when I did the animal chores this morning:
The cow’s name is Judy (named before we got her), and when I went out later this morning, our miniature horse, Spirit (who I call Sparky, as that seems to fit his disposition better) was butting and nipping the calf. Sparky quickly got penned up, and the calf was thus named Punch (as in Punch and Judy).
There should be a couple of litters of kittens joining the crew any day now. Things are really hopping!
UPDATE: Really good to see Punch taking milk – a calf’s stomach is designed by God to be fairly porous right after birth so the antibodies in the colostrum can propagate throughout the body faster. It’s really important that the calf take milk within the first 12-24 hours for that reason.
About ten of our fifteen acres is in crops each year, and last fall’s harvest was field corn. I had an epic plowing session with the 8N and a two-bottom plow, and then left the field “rough” over the winter to “mellow down,” which just means the freeze/thaw cycle breaks down and loosens the dirt, leaving it soft as butter in the spring.
A few weeks ago, I borrowed my “real farmer” friend’s big John Deere tractor and field cultivator, which made quick work of leveling out the furrows left by the plowing.
Several passes were made, then a few more using a spike-tooth harrow to get everything really smoothed out and level.
John Harper was called to pastor the Moody Church in the early 1900s. He went down with the Titanic. And W.B. Riley related the death of Harper in this way:
“We have the history of John Harper’s end, for survivors brought to harbor in safety told it to us. When the Titanic was struck by the iceberg that drove in her sides and sent the ship to the bottom, John Harper was leaning against the railing, pleading with a young man to come to Christ.
Four years after the Titanic went down, a young Scotsman rose in a meeting in Hamilton, Canada, and said, ‘I am a survivor of the Titanic. When I was drifting alone on a piece of wood that awful night, the tide brought Mr. John Harper of Glasgow on a piece of wreckage near me. He said to me, ‘Man, are you saved?’ ‘No,’ I said, ‘I’m not.’ He replied, ‘Believe in the Lord, Jesus Christ, and you’ll be saved.’ And the waves bore him away, but strange to say, brought him back a little later, and again he said, ‘Are you saved now?’ ‘No,’ I said, ‘I can’t honestly say that I am.’ He said again, ‘Believe in the Lord, Jesus Christ, and you will be saved.’ And shortly after, he went down beneath the water. And there alone in the night, and with two miles of water under me, I believed, and I am John Harper’s last convert.'”