Category: Farm

The Hermit

As an introvert, quiet appeals to me. Sitting silently in the mornings before the activity of the day is a good way to reset before the chaos and noise of the daily events begin. My hubby and children, I think, fear that if I am ever alone in life that I will become that hermit. As a result, they encourage me to participate in activities with folks that share my crafts. It is easy with the two ladies that live in the same village and we try to get together at one of our homes each week. Those sessions are relatively quiet, chatting, quietly spinning or knitting, but each of us comfortable enough with silence to not feel the need to fill it with talk.

Noisy environments have always been uncomfortable to me and now that I wear two hearing aids, even more so. Maybe it was more comfortable not being able to hear it as well, though most conversation was missed. This is where forcing myself to become part of the event is more of a challenge. I will commit to attending the larger spinning weekly group, stating to hubby that I am going, then finding any excuse to not attend, though I made it today and there were only a few of us present. There are a couple of retreats that occur each year, and at one, I know most of the participants and feel more comfortable attending. The other, I have backed away from as many of the folks I knew for various reasons are no longer there. It is difficult for me to try to fit in then even though we are all doing the same sorts of fiber crafts.

Son1 and daughter, helped me get set up to Zoom with an online group of crafts folk, but I find that type of interaction very stressful and our internet is not the best, so keeping a picture and sound varies, making it more stressful. I am thankful that by the time Covid sent the world in that direction that I was already retired.

The hermit tendencies are ideal for garden work. Outdoors with only the sun, wind, and bird sounds as company. Sometimes, help would be nice, but given enough time, it gets done. It is almost time to put the tomatoes and peppers out instead of moving them out and back in the house daily. And the beans can be planted. That may happen today. Yesterday after spinning with the small group in town, the beds that had previously been prepared or planted were given a light scuffle with the hoe. The first radish and a handful of asparagus brought in.

For those who read the previous post, the missing Marans never returned, so the raccoon episode resulted in the loss of two hens, one killed and one missing, probably caught by another predator while out hiding. That leaves a small flock of 7. Day before yesterday, they were too traumatized to lay, but yesterday provided 6. We may be okay with just the remaining flock, but there are no extras to share with friends anymore.

The nice weather, though very windy this week has allowed a profusion of Iris blooms. My bouquet from the Farmer’s Market last week was looking sad, so the remaining blooms from it were added to a bouquet of Iris from the beds around the house. They are a favorite spring flower with their sunny colors and repeat blooms.

So the hermit of the mountain lives on, not writing as much as some years, wondering if the garden will overwhelm this year with trying to keep it thriving, and with preserving it’s bounty for the cold months that follow. She will get out again with friends to spin, even attending an annual social/potluck on the porch of one of the members of the spinning group. As I age, the hermit tendencies grow and it requires more effort to be social, but I am working at it.

Sometime this month, the new bees will arrive and again, an effort to keep a couple of hives alive for the year. The son that initiated this project is having better luck.

Bad Chicken Mama

At lock up time last night, it was pouring rain. The hens had been penned up earlier when I took kitchen scraps over to them, so I left them to their own devices overnight. That was a major error. Though the pen is fenced with an heavy erosion fence cover, a raccoon got in the coop. I didn’t even realize it until just a few minutes ago when I went to check for eggs. as I had seen hens in the yard today and didn’t even dawn on me that they had been penned up last night. Two followed me with the treat pail over to the run, one was in the vegetable garden and joined the other two. Several were frantic under the coop, but I figured they just wanted treats or to be let out as the strong wind today had blown the gate shut, though now that I think about it, I had rolled the rock that holds the gate shut against it when I penned them up late yesterday afternoon. That only accounted for 7 of them. When I opened the coop door, there were feathers everywhere and one dead hen, the victim that I could find. One is missing, probably frightened off into the woods or thickets, but so far she hasn’t returned.

The Marans that was in the garden went straight into the coop to lay an egg as soon as I did a little clean up. I hope the one that is AWOL reappears or my flock is down to 7. Nine was barely providing enough eggs for daughter’s family and my use.

They haven’t been providing that many eggs for the number of hens, aging out, I guess. but I had really hoped to get through this laying season before having to replace any.

I feel bad as it is totally my fault that they weren’t secured in the coop last night. Not wanting to go out in the storm cost me at least one hen and several eggs. It was easy to be complacent as the coop has food and water in it and with the rain, there is a tub of water outside in the run as well. Lesson learned. Regardless how nasty it is outside, the coop needs to be secured at night.

Fire

We live in the zipcode of a tiny Village. On April 1, 1901, almost the entire village was destroyed, leaving only a couple residences, two churches, and a stable. Two stores, a tavern, a hotel, the drug store, and a tannery were among the buildings destroyed.

“Newport was a thriving community with many businesses. An iron foundry, located on Sinking Creek, made pig iron from ore mined near Newport. A woolen mill in Newport obtained power from a 37-foot diameter overshot water wheel. The mill was later converted into a woodworking plant, then into a blacksmith shop and then into an automobile workshop. There were several mills including the Zell Mill and the Payne Mill. The town had three distilleries, each with a bar room.” Keister, Susie Reed (1969). A History of Newport, Virginia. Virginia Leader

The village now is a handful of houses, a US Post Office, a small general store with gas pumps, and two churches. There were two professional baseball players and a nationally known songwriter that called Newport home.

The village is surrounded by National Forest and farmland that is usually a mix of pasture and wood lots. With all of the woods, when we see smoke or a scene like the one we saw last night, we alert.

This was seen when I went down to make a late evening cup of tea, to the south east of us, just over the hill at the back corner of our farm. Knowing that the neighbor back there has recently cleared areas of woods for more pastures for his cattle, I texted him to see if he was burning piles. Since there is an open burn ban until after 4 pm, he had to wait until then to start the burn. We had a few light hearted text exchanges and he let us know that there were several more big piles, so we will see more nights like this.

Almost exactly a year ago, our sons helped me pull Autumn Olive bushes in the area where the bee yard was going to be placed and we piled them in the yard away from the house and the woods. That night, the guys tried to have a bonfire that was less than successful as the bushes were green. A second attempt latter in the spring or early summer still didn’t get rid of the pile, but left a ring of trunks and branches that the grass grew through. Today, I piled it all into a teepee type pile and mowed the grass as close to the pile as possible. This afternoon, that pile was burned.

Continuously dragging in the unburned portions until the pile was reduced to cinders. The cinders were shoveled into the burn barrel and allowed to burn down until dark. It was then thoroughly doused and lidded. On another day, when more time can be spent monitoring it, more small wood will be added to the burn barrel and allow it to burn down to a layer of ash. The barrel isn’t considered open burn. That area is in the upper edge of the hayfield, so it is good that it is now gone and the hay can now grow there and not be a mowing or haying hazard. Once the burn barrel can be moved, it will be placed a bit higher on the property and used to burn pruning from the fruit trees.