seasonal thoughts

As we enter each season, we enter a time of change. Such is nature. Where once we heard the steady rhythm of life; the chirping and squawking of birds and the hum of insects, now we are given silence. Green growth has given way to brown and tree tops once lush now stand naked, skeletal remains of what was.

Here in the Northern hemisphere daylight has been steadily decreasing since the summer solstice. We are on the verge of winter and the most welcome rebirth of the sun. We have worked hard planting, tending and harvesting since spring, in preparation for this time. Like the squirrel we have gathered and stored. Nature in her wisdom has always shown us the way. As we enter the season we are prepared for the coming months and time of stillness, a time of withdrawing into the warmth of hearth and home.

Despite what the world of commercialism would have us believe, Nature teaches us that this is a time for slowing down, for stillness and for taking inventory of our lives. If we allow Nature to guide us on the path we come to understand that the hustle and bustle of the holiday season is unnatural and manmade. We humans have been misled to the point of turning the holy days of winter into holidays of excess and overindulgence. I believe Nature, in her eternal wisdom shows us quite the opposite and that now is a time for conserving our energy and our resources.

As we enter the coming days it is wise to consider how Nature behaves. In the season of stillness, let us allow ourselves stillness. In the season of quiet reflection, let us allow ourselves time to reflect on the past and consider the future. Our thought, plans, ideas are as seeds, let them germinate so in the future they may take root and grow.

Just my thoughts on this gray November day.

the nature of things

nature's pentagram...btw Paula Red apples are great pie making apples.

nature's oddity...or maybe this Marglobe tomato was just happy to see me.

seasonal thoughts

It’s about this time of year when I start longing for the less busy days of fall and winter. Not that I actually look forward at this time to the cold months ahead, (brrrrr) but just the slowing down part. In fact, despite being (what feels like) confined to my kitchen daily with canning in progress, I am acutely aware of how quickly summer is coming to an end. It seems to sadden me a little, unlike in the past when I used to be anxious for fall to arrive in all her splendor and crispness and to see summer come to a close. Now I think it just makes me more aware of just how quickly time passes and how soon these blue sky days of songbirds and sunshine, of open windows and sultry breezes will be gone. But soon the panorama of color, of burgundy and amber leaves ushering in the season of slowing down will lighten the loss of summer. Change is inevitable. We appreciate what is, release the old as the seasons pass, welcome the new, adapt and trust all is as it should be. Each cycle of nature, each season of life brings its gifts. How can we not help but appreciate the perfection of it all?

around the house

Finally I managed to get some housework caught up! The kitchen has been a motley mess of canning kettles, vegetables, jars, pots and pans. It's August that's why! Today I actually swept the floors and let me tell ya, they needed it in a bad way. Tomorrow I'll do some laundry because when your canning and cooking, well, you use up a whole lot of kitchen towels. Well, at least I do.

When I get some free time, (hahaha!) I have been working on this afghan. The colors and the pattern give it a southwestern look don't you think?

The herb bed is in its August glory. I love when it's full and lush in late summer.

From the front porch...one of the things I love about living in the country...except when they visit my garden.

Hungarian hots and (mostly) Cherokee Purples...

21 jars of hot sauce, 7 pints of pickles and two pints of dried tomatoes.
Not a bad days work!

Uno heard me coming to the door and hurries away from the cat's food.
Bad duck!

as the sun sets

unenhanced photos taken Monday evening.

afternoon thoughts

Spider spins and weaves a web across the front porch from post to a hanging mobile. So intent with just this one mission, I don’t have the heart to tell him to take his business elsewhere. I watch the intricacy of his work, tiny limbs move with lightening speed in nimble perfection. Voila! He shoots through the air then stops to resume spinning his transportive web. I watch, in awe of this tiny miraculous creature of the earth.

A mamma bluebird perches atop the electrical line, keeping an ever watchful eye on the box that houses her young ones below. She and Papa never travel far from their young. Every so often Papa returns to the nest and peers in through the hole in the box to check in on the youngsters.

Redwing Blackbirds chirp loudly as they dart back and forth across the summer sky. They now own the south field where in late winter and early, early spring the Red Tail, Kestral and various other hawks ruled and hunted. Now seldom is a hawk seen as the Redwing sentries perch atop grass and weed. And if a hawk dare traverse their territory he is met with quick aggression, chased off by a flurry of redwings.

A faithful couple, the cardinals fly to and fro from Maple to Spirea, melodiously calling out to one another as they flutter and dart from tree limb to bush. There is much activity today in the green of the Maple tree.

We planted that tree in 88 or 89 during our first residence here, having dug it from my sister’s property. Just a small, young thing, it survived being bumped and broken more than once by the lawnmower. Not only did it survive, it thrived. When we returned here in 06 it was a wonderful sight to behold…our tree stood tall and mature, providing perfect afternoon shade for the front lawn and the south window.

When we first returned here in May of 06 to begin clean up as a favor to our friends, I would take a few minutes to myself on occasion to go out, sit on the ground and face the woods. I would find myself speaking with the trees and sometimes I would cry, yearning to come back. Oh how I had missed the beauty of their presence.

What is it that connects us so strongly to a place, making us feel so sure of where we belong? I do not know, but I do know beyond a doubt that it exists. And so, for a moment or two each day, I find myself being consciously thankful for my return.

enchanted

"I am always happy when we're done and heading home." Those are the words I spoke to my husband this afternoon on our way home from running errands in town. Fact is, I'd rather be home than just about anywhere else. When I get home it's like breathing a big sigh of relief. No more hustle and bustle, no more sensory overload. Right now in this moment all I hear is the wind moving outside, the chimes tinkling and the sound of my fingers tapping out the words you read. If I need more than this I'll crank up some Dylan or Clapton on the stereo. That's always good.

Yesterday I took a walk around the property and down the road. Sometimes I just have to go out and breathe it all in, the green, the blue, the blossoms. I don't take it for granted...where I'm at geographically or philosophically. I am enchanted you might say.

The sky was killer blue...and clusters of spring beauties bloomed all around me...as I walked on a carpet of violets...I came upon the gateway to a gullyand entered...

to find 'neath a tree by a nearby brook, this cairn.
Following the brook I chanced upon what surely must be the dwelling place of some woodland fairies...and then found bluebells at my feet.

Oh so many reasons to be thankful.

the greening of keepsake acres

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looking northeast from the rear of our yard

One year and eight months ago we returned to this place, a place we had previously called home. We had lived here before from 1984 until July of 1993. Due to circumstances that were out of our control we had to move away in 93 and did so with sad hearts. We loved it here and would have stayed forever. Then due to a variety of (for us, serendipitous) circumstances we had the opportunity and freedom to return in the summer of 2006. For me particularly it was a gift my heart had longed for. Several years prior we had sought a return to simplicity and had opted out of the daily grind, gave up our business, mortgage and our way of life to return to a back to basics lifestyle. We moved around for a few years in between leaving our conventional lifestyle behind and finally landing here. When the opportunity to return to this place presented itself, it was a simple decision.

My dark lilac returns to life. I planted this when living here the first time.

We had a lot of work cut out for us. The previous tenant/half owner had made some improvements to the property but had left the house far worse than imagined in many ways. Never afraid of hard work, we set about returning this old farm house to a more livable condition. I always say it was a labor of love, though I'm not so sure Coop always agreed with me on that. But, as we scraped , scrubbed, repaired and labored more, it was as if I could feel this old house smiling as she came to life. I truly believe in the energy of places and there was so much residual energy anyhow from our previous years here, I couldn't help but feel as if the house was welcoming us home again.


As I ramble on, the point I am trying to make is this...I somehow wanted to impart the significance of this home and land, to somehow relay what it meant to me to be here. I decided to give the land an unofficial name, one that was not printed on the owners deed, but one that came from my heart. Thus, Keepsake Acres came into being.

looking northwest from the rear

beyond the back yard lay a cluster of daffodils

from my kitchen window

This is what we are privy to view on a regular basis here. As a habit it seems I’m often encumbered by Coop’s presence at my sink when I am trying to cook or clean up the kitchen. But then, I often find myself standing there alongside him, appreciating the view.

Creating a Wildlife Habitat

Coop and I were thrilled to see a Red Breasted Grosbeak the other day high up in a tree at the back of the property. He caught our eyes all right with his blazing red breast. We'd never seen one before. Once you've heard their call it's quite unmistakable, also. It's tone reaches far above the sound of the other birds nearby and is quite lovely.

In regard to that, just thought I would share an article from Mother Earth News that might be of interest for those wanting to attract wildlife into their environment.

The peonies are up and bulbous, soon to bloom as the shiny black ants nibble away at their buds. The Maple tree out back near the old Locust stump has managed to save itself as it has transformed from a measly, sickly tree with sparse and tiny leaves to a full, green shelter of shade. I like to think it is happy now that we are here and that maybe that our presence has contributed to its dramatic turn around.

The new peach and pear trees have been planted, the zinnias are popping up in front of the porch as is the calendula and the half dozen sunflowers I have started in pots. Yesterday and today have both been extremely warm days, so I brought the tomato and pepper plants to the outdoors now, feeling as if the chance of frost is past or nearly so. I think they will grow stronger and faster now that they are outside.

This afternoon, in between loads of laundry I pulled my lawn chair up under the big Maple, arranged a small side table, filled a cup with coffee and took a book and my basket of crochet outside. I have begun a new project in greens and am nearly finished reading ‘Zen and The Art of Knitting’ by Bernadette Murphy, a gift from a good friend. It isn’t a big book, in fact just the opposite. It would be a rather quick read except for the fact it isn’t that kind of book. I realized when I began reading it, it was the kind of book that one reads in small increments, savoring the wisdom and philosophical stories a little at a time. I have enjoyed it thoroughly and highly recommend it.

As I sat with my crochet today, thinking on the trees and their significance the tears welled up and my heart ached. The landowner informed us yesterday that the old giant Black Walnut that sits in the ravine behind the house will be taken down. I understood the need to remove the smaller Walnuts close to the house. Their acidic nature is poisonous to other plant life such as the fruit trees and vegetables. But the Granddaddy tree is far from the yard and his absence will create not only an empty spot in the ravine, (and my heart) but take away the only old growth in the wooded area not to mention a generous amount of oxygen production. The fact that he is a living thing and there is no real need for his removal is tough to swallow. He is huge, the size of three trees, the kind of tree you could build a real tree house in. The thought of this grand trees absence causes my heart to ache but I have little right to oppose the landowner. However I cannot help feel sad at the prospect of destroying what seems sacred. Perhaps intentions may change.

Today started out with a power outage, resulting in my inability to shower, wash dishes, do laundry, in fact do little else but crochet. It has been one of those days when I have felt more philosophical than ambitious…a day that has been slow, quiet and given me the opportunity to consider the sacredness in everything. Unexpected occurrences (like a power outage) that are beyond ones control are often opportunities, allowing one to shift gears and make of it what you will.

duck eggs, opossums & another beautiful day!

My friend Janet brought me two long planters she picked up from a neighbor’s trash pile on her morning walk. She thought they’d be great for on my patio and she is right! Since this is our first spring back at the farm, I’m not certain yet where my herb garden will be or if I’ll even get serious on it until summer or fall. So, yesterday I planted cilantro in one and calendula in the other. That sure will make it easy to gather fresh cilantro when I’m making salsas or to pluck a few calendula flowers to toss in a salad or decorate a cake with this summer. I hope to infuse some oil with calendula also, since it’s so therapeutic.

Yesterday I noticed some green things coming up in the garden, plus the radishes are really up! A couple more weeks and we’ll be planting the rest of the garden. It won’t be as big as planned but will still be adequate for us to eat from, can from and offer our organic veggies to others I’m sure. It doesn’t take much space to have an abundance of veggies. I can almost taste them now. I become so anxious for fresh home grown veggies each spring, especially a big juicy tomato. There’s just nothing like it and I do believe it’s one of the very best things about summer! Gotta get that deer fencing yet!

Today was absolute gorgeous as was yesterday. Slight breeze, sunny, blue skies and temps in the upper 60’s. Perfect! Coop has been mowing for two days. Next week the weather forecast is rain for about 4 straight days, so we’re doing what we can now beforehand.

One of our hen ducks layed her first egg yesterday and another today! I think it was Thelma as I’ve noticed her hanging around the pen more than the others. They have become quite easily trained. They are let out to forage each morning when we get up, then about 6 pm or so we guide them back to their pen without much, if any trouble at all. They are now accustomed to us and show little interest in our presence except when they are scolded for getting too close to the road. They love it when Coop mows as it makes foraging in the grass easy for them. They have little concern for mowers and cars and don’t get intimidated easily by anything. And we’ve learned that they love dry cat food! So, we’ve taken to feeding Ge, our mouser, in the evenings after the ducks have been penned up for the night. They make short work of cleaning up a pan of cat food.


We watched two opossums sauntering through the woods this morning, down by the creek. I’m guessing there are babies in a pouch, too. I find opossums appealing for some reason, although most seem to find them repulsive. They are so unique with their thumbs on the hind feet. They’re the only marsupial known to North America. They are much like cats, with their ability to purr and the worst they do is hiss, growl, run or play dead if you get too close. They are also naturally immune to rabies, or it’s at least rare that they contract the disease. They do no harm that I’m aware of except scavenge for food. They have dug under our compost bin a few times over the winter when very hungry. Oh, not to mention one came into our yard last week when I was cooking and had the range fan running. I know it smelled the food through the exhaust. It was comical to watch it stand up on hind legs and sniff the sir outside the kitchen window. It finally worked its way to the front porch in hopes of finding something to eat, pausing to sniff the empty cat dish, then parking itself for a few moments at the front door. Too funny! Never a dull moment here! But that is much of what I love being here at the farm.

I have my moments of feeling such gratefulness and blessedness for my life here that it nearly brings me to tears. Sometimes it does. I know not everyone can understand the depths of those feelings, not having been through my experiences and not expecting to ever be able to return to the country and a place I love so much. But as I said before, I am incomplete away from this rural life and am humbled and happy to have been given the opportunity to be here now. I doubt my feelings of appreciation will ever subside. I wouldn’t want them to either.

The trees are greening up and the sun is shining...well now it is. Late yesterday afternoon and night we saw heavy storms directly over our county. Typical Spring in Ohio when cold air meets warm and creates chaotic weather that brings funnel clouds, heavy rain and hail. Fortunately we sustained no damage. And the ducks were in heaven with the rain and puddles! :) As I always say when it rains, "great weather...if you're a duck!"

Speaking of ducks, our three Muscovy followed (voluntarily without prodding) the path to the creek the other day. Since the ground drops in the back, I had to stand on a stool at the kitchen window to watch them waddle down to the creek. Still I could only see so far so we headed upstairs to look out the window. What a wonderful sight to see these fowl in their element, bobbing in the creek, flapping their wings and skimming the water. It was a joyous experience for us as well as the ducks! Needless to say, they are keeping themselves much cleaner now that they have regular baths! They are the most entertaining critters, worth their weight in
comic value if nothing else. They are adapting well and becoming very well accustomed to our presence.

Coop and Conrad (the landowner) worked yesterday on the section of ground by the silo, cleaning up what was obviously a junk pile the previous tenant left. On Earth Day I had gathered up two 55 gallon bags of junk from the area. That was my personal contribution to commemorate the day. That at least cleared the way for the guys to work on the larger pieces of trash. Still have a ways to go, but it's looking better. Just needed to get the worst taken care of before the grass and weeds grew tall.

***

Beyond the barn bank where the old barn used to be, is now this beautiful somewhat secluded area...a small valley unto itself with the creek running nearby. It is quite lovely and peaceful. Coop has been keeping it mowed. I am thinking I will place my concrete bench down there along the edge of the grass near the trees and creek bed. What a beautiful meditation spot that would be. I have always dreamed of having a serene area in nature to go to when in need of solitude. This will be ideal.

Conrad was going to have the old locust stump removed from the back yard, until Coop mentioned that I wanted it to stay. :) It stays. It's a large stump, several feet high that I will use as an outdoor altar or plant stand. I have many memories of sitting under that old locust tree and breathing in the fragrance of its' blossoms. Though the tree may be gone now, the stump is a reminder and the remainder of something beautiful.