Foggy Bottom

written by

Drausin Wulsin

posted on

November 15, 2018

DSC08493.jpg

Foggy Bottom is not only a neighborhood in our nation's capital but also on our farm. 

The precipitation we have received this year is close to double normal amounts. This has made for frequent flooding and foggy mornings, even a snow-covered one earlier this week. Our bottom ground is susceptible to flooding, so we have to be vigilant about which animals are where during such times. 

Bovines and hogs are most adaptable to wet conditions, while sheep and goats are the least. The former originated in the humid forests of Southeast Asia, while the latter stem from the arid hillsides of the Middle East. 

Our cattle are accordingly weathering this wet year better than the sheep. Parasites have been thriving in the humidity of the year and are dragging down the ovines, despite our practise of frequent rotation and 45-day rest periods for pasture. We probably needed 60 to 90-day rest periods this year. Next year we will make changes toward that goal. 

Our low lying fields in Foggy Bottom have often been wet this year, and today we had to move the bovines from their recently flooded break of grass to an adjoining one on higher ground, as below. We would much rather deal with too much water, however, than too little.





Last month we saw damage wrought by hogs to a hillside. This month we see how an application of annual ryegrass, protected by a hot-wire, is healing that hillside.



We will have frozen turkeys for pick-up this Sunday at Clark Montessori, for those who ordered them. We will have a few extra on-hand to accommodate last minute purchases.  We will also have a number of smoked capons ready to go, which serve well as a small turkey. Let us know if you would like to reserve a capon.




As we wrestle with abnormal levels of precipitation, we remember our brethren in California, suffering from abnormal drought and horrendous wildfires. What tragedy they endure. May our moisture bless their hillsides soon. No force in Nature is greater than that of water present or absent.

In this season of thanks, we bow in gratitude that we witness fog in our bottoms.




More from the blog

Sacred Place

It is a privilege to know a sacred place, as I feel I do. In some ways, it seems sacred places are supposed to be scarce and remote, like Stonehenge, Chartres Cathedral, the Taj Mahal, or abandoned Pueblo dwellings. Large landscapes, like the desert, ocean, or mountain ranges feel imbued with the divine. Alaska, the Amazon, and the Serengeti invite a sense of awe. One travels to such places, in pilgrimage. And sometimes such places reorganize the pilgrim's sense of order, inviting disorder or change, that can be both painful and uplifting.

Big Muddy

Here is the Lower Mississippi River, 45 feet below normal pool. Over Thanksgiving, Susan and I shoehorned ourselves onto a cruise ship to learn about the lower Mississippi and its bayou. We started in Memphis and ended up in New Orleans, with stops along the way to explore river towns. This river is the third longest on the planet, providing drainage to 40% of North America. It has historically deposited silt yearly in its floodplains, producing topsoil 120 feet deep, making these soils some of the richest in the world. Vast wetland forests grew beside its banks, of cypress, oaks, and sycamores, populated by a rich array of black bears, deer, bobcats, alligators, and aquatic life. This was the legendary bayou.

Streams & Souls

Streams and souls seem to share character. They are life-giving, they are coveted, they can be impeded, they can be channelized, they can be overwhelmed, they flood, they dry up, they flow downhill, they are a force of both change and constancy, they lie at the center of a community, they will not be denied, and because of this great complexity, they attract periodic resistance. So, it seems that streams may serve as a metaphor for the journey of the soul.