We woke Saturday morning (April 26, a full month into spring) to a dusting of snow. One who has lived a lifetime in Minnesota can almost accept that. Much tougher to face was the biting wind pummeling us from the north. So even though we had two able bodied workers who'd given up their weekend to come help us with the vineyard, there was no working outdoors on Saturday. Instead, we checked off the list one putsy electrical chore, we baked (and then ate) a small batch of GF cookies, we watched the chickens put down an entire jar of feed, then closed the evening with old-time pulltabs, one dollar tap beers, and the MN Twins on screen at the local American Legion.
We woke Sunday earlier than we expected, given our later-than-normal bedtime. Fr. Schneider delivered an outstanding sermon -- as is his habit -- and after Mass we noted the wind had abated. But it was still unseasonably cold even for Minnesota. And it was wet. Too wet to accomplish what needed to get done -- tilling sixteen strips of grass and then constructing a vineyard trellis. Logic told us it was too wet to turn soil, but we ignored her and tried nonetheless. We are stubborn that way.
I'll let the pictures take over from here:
The 36-inch wide pull-behind tiller would have worked better under other conditions. But the soil was like clay.
The rows on the west end of the vineyard were wetter than those on the east. Attempts to turn that soil were futile, so we moved on.
Around 1 p.m., it warmed enough for us to consider taking off our stocking caps. It was a fleeting thought. By 2 p.m., it was snowing. (My brother Tony prefers 80-degree days.)
Of the sixteen rows, 10 were tilled once and 6 of those were tilled twice. Still, the soil is wet and clumpy. We're praying for some warm, dry days this week so that we may head back out Friday night and begin again. As far as sinking those 200-plus wood posts, we worry that even a week of dry weather won't give us the soil composition we need to run the auger successfully.
You know what they say, nothing worthwhile ... .
