Movin’ Day

Last evening was moving day. The hens were herded and/or caught in a big fishing net or by hand and relocated to the Chicken Palace with food, water, scratch, 3 nesting boxes, and an old ladder that was cut in half and propped at angles against the roof beam to provide with with all their needs for the next week or so until they are comfortable in there and know it is “home” from now on. I expect today’s stress and the strange digs will reduce egg production this week, but that is the price I needed to pay to be able to clean up and repair the coop for the littles. The rain cooperated just long enough for me to get the move accomplished.

It was also moving day or actually transplant day for the young tomatoes. I wanted to wait a bit longer, but the second batch needed to go in the hydroponic garden, so the first dozen were transplanted into plantable 4 inch pots, placed in a plastic container that was the perfect size and they will begin outdoor days and indoor nights until danger of frost has passed and they can go in the ground. Once they were good sized sprouts, I used another dozen of the plugs to start 4 more tomatoes because daughter wanted 6 and I generally plant 8 or 10. Since the starter tray for the plugs holds a dozen, I started some Thai basil and some Cilantro to also share with daughter. Those had sprouted or at least germinated and needed to be under the light and fan, so they are in a position to be ready to put in the ground about the time of the last frost and a short period of hardening off.

Before putting the second set of starts in the 12 cell hydroponic garden, the water was dumped, the container cleaned out, and refilled with fresh water and plant food.

I’m looking for another one of the resin half barrels that I have used for raspberries and often for flowers and herbs. I will transplant some of the larger herbs from the smaller hydroponic garden that Son 2’s family gave me for Christmas and start a new batch of the ones I use regularly to grow in the house. I do like clipping them and using them in salads and for cooking.

I’m off shortly to my first event in a year. Founder’s Day at Wilderness Road Regional Museum, dressed in costume, set with wheel, spindles, wool, and some items to perhaps sell. It is outdoors and the rain chances during the 4 hours is 70% for two of the hours, zero for one, and 40% for the other. I will set up in the loom house or on a porch to demonstrate Revolutionary War period fiber preparation. My dark blue skirt will be paired with a dark blue mask which certainly wasn’t part of their garb, but will be part of mine today.

“The End of an Error”

I suspect that if you are reading this, you are of like mind, or at least tolerant of differing opinions. The title was seen on a social media platform this morning and I think it says it all.

It distresses me that 45 has caused such division in this country that the inauguration of the President will be before fields of flag instead of people, behind high fences with armed National Guardsmen as the only “spectators.” He is out of Washington, lacking the class to politely and civilly transfer the power as has been done throughout history. But he isn’t out of office for another 2 1/4 hours. He abdicated his power months ago and the VP has had to try to pick up the reins.

On 45’s way out, pardoning his cronies and those wealthy who might give him a boost. Issuing executive orders to undermine the new administration, lifting travel restrictions to countries hard hit by COVID. All attempts to make the transition more difficult.

The events of the last two nights have been class acts, the lighting of the mall and the 200,000 flags, the memorial to those who have died of COVID that was so grossly mismanaged by 45 and his administration and the lighting of 400,000 lights along the reflecting pool in their memory.

I hope that Biden’s administration doesn’t discover too many disasters. I hope they will meet with a smooth transition, but am already seeing some of the same players in Congress who tried to block the certification of the Electoral College, trying to block Cabinet member certification. Players who obviously don’t take their oath to uphold the Constitution seriously, instead playing to their own political agenda.

The last 4 years have made me tired and stressed. I hope the next 4 are less so. I have lived through a lot of historical events, some to cheer for, some to stress over, some to mourn, but never did I think I would live through a President impeached twice in one term that has tried to removed rights of the citizens, block immigration, and tear our country apart.

And the spirits have retired for this year

The Wilderness Road Regional Museum for the past 3 years has had an afternoon/early evening event near Halloween, with two gorgeous Belgian horses pulling a wagon through the Museum property and streets of Newbern to be greeted by “spirits” of historical figures from the region, including 3 tiny, young kids portraying the Shawnee and an equally tiny Werewolf. The first year, I volunteered to help with tickets as no reservations were required that year, and to help with serving hot cider and directing some crafts for the kids in the outdoor kitchen, but the elderly woman who I had driven over to portray Mary Draper Ingles got cold very early and had someone take her home. I stepped in to do dual duty, helping to get the wagon loaded, then running in period clothing around the museum to be Mary on the opposite side of the property before the wagon got there, then back around to help prepare the next load.

Last year, I was asked just to be Mary and enjoyed playing the role of an anxious woman, fearful of getting caught out after dark. Then going into the museum and demonstrating spinning between the wagon loads.

When it was announced that they were going to do it again this year, with reservations and masks for all visitors, knowing that I was outdoors on the porch and in the front of the building, that I felt safe enough to dress in my period outfit, grab my shopping basket, and visit the spirit of the proprietor, Henry Hance, the founder of the town and shop keeper. We tweaked our part a bit to include more conversation between Doug (Henry) and me (Mary) and twice he caused me to turn to the wall laughing when he told Mary not to worry about the “Indians” that they were adorable. I didn’t set up to spin indoors this year, the museum part was closed to control the number of people inside, and to allow us to close off the old store for us to be able to safely go in as part of my skit sends me in while Henry finishes his part. This worked well, except for one “Karen” who felt entitled to come in with her group even after being told the museum was closed and the area we were in shut for our safety. She had donated something in that room and felt it was her right to bring people in to see it. Though she had to have a mask for the ride, none of them had them on in the museum. I stayed on the porch, wrapped in a wool shawl and masked between skits that occurred every 30 minutes for 8 wagonloads (about 70 people total).

It was good to get out and do some living history, see some of my living history friends again. I look forward to the day that I can return to more activities over there, to set up and spin, to work with camps and school groups on spinning and fiber usage during the late 18th and early 19th century.