A year or two ago, DIL took a favorite photo of Jim and a compilation of other photos and did a beautiful pen sketch for hubby as a gift.
She is a very talented artist and wanted to do something special for him. He loves the gift and it hangs on the siding wall of the steps to the loft in our living room.
In August, right at his birthday, hubby made the very difficult decision due to health issues to sell his beloved Harley and give up his “Zen” riding as he called it. In the years since he learned to ride, two months after his 70th birthday, he had collected patches, buttons, poker chips, and pins that never made it onto the iconic leather vest and as he was no longer riding, a vest he wouldn’t wear wasn’t an option.
I had an idea as a gift for him. It isn’t a surprise, but done out of love as part of his Christmas. The photo that was used as the focus of DIL’s sketch was printed as an 8 X 10, his license plate from the HD was saved, and the idea came to fruition. A large frame, some black cotton fabric, a piece of corrugated material for the pins to stick into and it was all put together with patches and other treasures.
Son 1 and DIL asked me a bit ago if I could make them 60 bars of soap to use as office and neighbor gifts and I was glad to oblige. They have membership at Costco and we don’t have one near us, so they keep me supplied in the oils I need to make it. We worked out a plan to have a socially distanced meet up that worked around his end of semester grading at the University, DIL’s work schedule and the weather that dumped a foot of snow on them early in the week. This is the second meet up we have done, one in the fall, and today. Our initial plan was to meet up about 5 or 6 miles south of Afton Pass on the Blue Ridge Parkway, but it was still closed as of yesterday from the snow and ice. Son 1 suggested Natural Bridge State Park, less than an hour and a half drive for us, a bit more than 2 1/2 hours for them and it seemed like a good plan. I hadn’t been there in years and the last time it was still a private park. We again planned a picnic, each contributing to it and we grabbed a couple of picnic tables in the sun on the edge of the creek and had lunch. Then took a hike along the creek to the end of the trail at a waterfall.
Except for eating and taking a couple distanced photos of them, we all remained masked. It was great to see them and be able to exchange gifts for Christmas.
The young one, our oldest grand child is now 15 1/2 and it looks like he has grown at least another inch since we saw him in the fall.
He isn’t as tall as his dad yet, but he passed Granddad and he is 6’1+”. It is so good to see our kids off and on for short stints, safely distanced and masked. I can’t wait to give them hugs again. The picnics are icing. It was a nice winter day, sunny and it got up to or near 50f so to take our walk, Son1 and I shed our coats and left them in our cars when we carried the picnic goods back up. It wasn’t a long walk, only about .8 miles each way and not taken quickly as we walked and talked and the trail was quite wet and muddy in spots.
We got to spend about 3 hours with them and exchange gifts to open on Christmas. On Christmas Eve, if it isn’t raining, we will meet up with Daughter and her kids on her back patio to give them their gifts and for Granddad to do his traditional reading of “The Night Before Christmas” still requested by Daughter and Granddaughter.
Here’s to a hope that by next Christmas, we can again be with our families.
Over the weekend, it was light jacket warm for walks in the National Forest at the Pond and up at the Conservancy.
Our mountain is an alluvial field from the last ice age and there are many boulder fields. Farms that grow hay and corn for their cattle have had to clear rocks and boulders to be able to cultivate. On some trails, you may walk through wooded sections with few visible rocks then go through a boulder field. In the boulder fields you often see a tree that looks like it is eating a rock, a tree that has come up under the edge of a boulder and then grown around it. They fascinate me as a biologist.
After getting home from our hike yesterday, it was warm enough to sit on the back deck and shell the dried beans saved for seed to be used in the spring garden.
Many of the pods were empty or held only a couple of seed, some full with 8 or more seed, plenty for two plantings in our garden and granddaughter’s garden as well.
As the temperature dropped overnight, it rained and rained. The culvert still has not been opened by VDOT, so the driveway took another hit. I refuse to grade the driveway again until the culvert is opened as it will be futile. The high for today occurred just after midnight and has fallen all day. As the rain ended, the wind picked up and has ripped at the house all day. The chickens came out in the rain this morning, looked for scratch and retired back into the coop for the rest of the day. We are facing a frigid night and a winter storm on Wednesday. Winter storm = freezing rain, snow, sleet, ice (they don’t know), it is a safe term to use in winter when it is going to precipitate and be cold. The prediction currently is 2 to 7 inches of snow with several tenths of an inch of ice. We will just hunker down and build fires in the woodstove and fireplace to help keep the house warm and hope the ice doesn’t take the power out. This early in the season, whatever falls won’t last more than a day or so before it is melted. About a dozen years ago, we got 22″ of snow on the last day of school before winter break and it wasn’t gone when we got another 18″ about a week later. That is not typical here, especially that early in the winter.
Hopefully, we are going to have a socially distanced meet up on the weekend with Son 1 and our grandson, maybe DIL if she isn’t working and hand off soap I have made for them to use as gifts and their Christmas gifts as they won’t be spending this Christmas with us.
The seed catalogs have begun to arrive. My go to one, the first to arrive. Granddaughter and daughter have been tasked with deciding what they want to plant this year so that I can begin planning for the two gardens and getting any additional seed that I haven’t saved from last year. Maybe by garden time, we will have been able to get COVID vaccines and I will be able to help or at least visit her garden. Garden catalogs make for great winter reading and dreaming about the goodies that will be grown for the next year. Now it is time to hibernate and listen to the wind howl.
My father was one of two surviving children, his brother a couple of years his junior. Their baby sister died as a very young infant or toddler. My mother was an only child, adopted by a couple who were older and had been unable to bear a child of their own. Her biological parents were both deceased and family members who took in her siblings didn’t feel they could handle a newborn infant.
I don’t know if my aunt had siblings or not, I did know her mother when I was young, but don’t recall ever meeting siblings.
Between the brothers and their wives, there were 7 children. I am the oldest of them and the oldest surviving member of this biological unit. My sister was the next born, then a female first cousin, my brother, then a male first cousin, followed later by two more female first cousins. There is a span of 14 years between me and my youngest first cousin.
My uncle’s work took him away from Virginia for most of my life so I didn’t have frequent contact with the cousins, but we did all gather each year in the Virginia mountains for a week.
This photograph has my father and stepmom, who my father married after my mother passed away taken at a family gathering in the mountains to celebrate my Dad’s birthday. I am unsure of the year. I am sitting on the wall on the right in the black teeshirt, the youngest first cousin is in the red shirt over my Dad’s shoulder left center. In the center of the front row in the brown shirt is my younger brother’s youngest child, his daughter and her Mom beside her. I will not try to identify the others in this photo as you see, many generations.
My mother passed away when I was 40 years old, in early December. That Christmas was difficult for our family, but new traditions formed as Dad moved on in his life, remarried and added two step siblings to the clan. Five years ago, my Dad passed away less than a week before Christmas. My youngest first cousin had gathered me and driven me across the state to visit him in the hospital during his last few days. He remained alert and cognizant of the situation, said his goodbyes to each of us and she and I drove back across the state a few days later, as she had to return to work, I was going to return alone the next day but he died that night. Another hard Christmas.
Early this month, I received a call from my brother one morning, he was in tears, his little girl had died early that morning, not of Covid, but a tragic loss. She was born with a genetic disorder that she coped with her entire life, was told she probably couldn’t have children, but she did, a son who turned 4 only a couple days before she passed away. She had a tough few months healthwise, but seemed to be doing better. She, her husband, and son lived in Canada. The borders are closed. All I could do is send my love in a note.
Two weeks ago, I was notified that the youngest first cousin had been hospitalized. Again, not from Covid, but she had an underlying condition for which she took medications and her system started shutting down. Two nights ago, she passed away, leaving her husband, her two sons over her shoulders in the photo, their wives and a just turned 2 year old grandson. Her husband and at least one of her sons were with her. Her sons and their families live across the country.
As I said, I didn’t see my cousins except for a week each summer, but this cousin lived half an hour from us and we did develop a closer relationship after we moved to the mountains in retirement. Dinners out occasionally, kayaking on the river together. Her birthday and our anniversary share a date, her grandson and I share the same birthday.
I’m not writing this looking for sympathy, just to encourage all of you to look at your families and cherish them, hold your relationships close to you. You never know when that connection may be permanently severed. Heal your differences if you have them. Times are tough enough with the social isolation not to have some connection with your families.
The weeks speed by. We look forward to whatever routines we can hang on to. Saturday mornings used to be breakfast at one of two local diners followed by the Farmer’s Market. It didn’t matter what time we arrived at the market as long as you weren’t too late in the morning, you could still get what you wanted and there was no restriction on how many people could gather to shop, listen to music, buy prepared food and just sit and eat with others on the lawn or one of the benches. Then along came COVID and for a time, even the market had to shut down. When it reopened, it was with safety measures in place, such as a modular fencing that had been used only for special events held once a month in the summer where alcohol could be purchased with food and music provided. The fence now controls the entry into the market, manned by volunteers that keep count of how many have entered and how many have exited. Then orange dots were painted at 6 foot intervals on the sidewalk outside the fence to help remind people to social distance while waiting. At the request of some of us seniors, the first hour was designated for pre orders and the over 55 crowd, but that seemed to put a lot of responsibility on the young volunteers to “police” the line and was ignored by some people.
This week, there were two lines 6 feet apart, one for the pre orders and over 55 crowd and one of others. Being there just a few minutes before they opened, so queued outside the fence until opening time, the Market manager walked the line and asked if you didn’t appear to fit the age requirement if you had pre orders and several folks were moved to the other line. It felt safe. I was in the first group of 25 to enter, was able to quickly pick up our weekly goods and return to the car. Being the Saturday after Thanksgiving, several vendors were not there, and the students for the most part have left the area as theyare on campus semester ended last Saturday and they will have a week vacation, a week of online class, and virtual exams, followed by winter break, so they are out of the town until at least mid to late January unless school continues virtually for the spring semester. As people realize the early hour is for the older folks, I expect that our market experience will be less stressful for me now.
After the market, we now do drive through breakfast in the car, sit in the parking lot and eat, not what we used to do, but still somewhat carrying out a routine.
Yesterday, I placed my curbside order at Eats Natural Food store. The form you use suggests ordering by scoops, cups, or a similar measure as ordering by weight is difficult to envision. Four cups of oatmeal weighs much less than 4 cups of beans or rice for example. I needed oatmeal, so I asked for 4 cups (a quart) and was amused when I opened my bags at home to find this instead of a plastic bag.
A “quart” of dry oatmeal. At least the container can be returned, sanitized and used again, much preferred to a plastic bag.
This suddenly seems silly and irrelevant as I just found out my youngest first cousin who fell ill 2 weeks ago, passed away last night, leaving a husband, two sons, their wives and a young grandson. This is on top of having lost a young niece earlier this month that left a husband and 4 year old son. May their families find peace.
We always had a rule that no Christmas decorating could be done until after Thanksgiving, then daughter got old enough to complain that we had to wait until after her birthday on the 29th. It became a family tradition to which I still comply. Even when she was younger, she wouldn’t complain if I put up the door wreath between Thanksgiving and her birthday, but nothing else.
She is a grown woman with children of her own and her own house, but still, I wait. I still usually put up the door wreath and pull out my Santa lap quilt in the interim, but nothing else. I am struggling to make the holidays as normal as they can possibly be, and will haul out the Santas, Christmas linens, and in a couple of weeks, the lights and ornaments for a locally cut tree. First, the house needs a deep cleaning. Living on a dirt/gravel road and driveway and having two large shedding dogs in the house, keeping the hair and dust down is a full time job and though I vacuum the exposed areas daily, the deeper mopping under furniture and thorough dusting doesn’t get done as often as it should. Each year that I pull the Santas out, I dream of the Library box shelves with the glass fronts that would help keep the books cleaner and the decorations I take out more dust free. Or maybe the revolving shelves like in mysteries, so the shelves just need to be revolved to the decorated side at Christmas and the book side the rest of the year.
All gifts are purchased or made and ready to be wrapped and packaged. One box to be mailed to Son 2’s family which will include the Grandmom made hand knit stocking for the youngest grandson, born about two weeks after last Christmas. Another box to be delivered in a second socially distanced meeting with Son 1 in early December. The gifts for daughter and her kids, as she lives nearby, will be delivered to their door on Christmas, an opportunity for us to not spend the day sitting in our house alone because the kids can’t visit this year. We will give them their gifts outdoors and come home.
In mid December, I have an opportunity to again set up a craft display and honor sale at Wilderness Road Regional Museum. Since the spinning challenge that I do each month with the Jenkins spindles encourages projects made with the yarn spun, I spent the last couple of days knitting a pair of plain, no pattern, hand spun, hand knit fingerless mitts to take to the sale. A few hats, mitts and mittens, a couple woven and lined bags, and a few smaller simpler shawls or scarves will also go along with a basket of handspun yarn skeins. The event is by reservation for two afternoons/early evenings and will hopefully reduce my inventory a bit before I have to report it to the county for tax purposes early in next year.
For now, I am going to grab mop and dust cloth and get ready to set up for the next holiday as soon as it is “legal.”
Take care. Hopefully next year will be closer to normal, even if the normal is a new normal. I want to hug my kids and grandkids, not see them at distances of a dozen feet.
Determined to make this as normal as possible in these abnormal times, two of my kids and I began early with a group text on our prep of our meals for our individual families. Instead of one big meal for a gang, it is 3 big meals served in three separate homes. The first text of the morning was from daughter with “Vote of confidence from my kids this morning: ‘Uncle Todd always makes the turkey. Do you even know how mom?’” This got us going exchanging how and what we were doing. Son 1 and I spatchcock our turkey, he varied our usual and nearly butterflied his with the cleaver trying it to flatten it and added a step with coarse salt and chopped herbs rubbed in the inside yesterday to “brine” over night. Daughter stating she didn’t have the tools to spatchcock so she was making a traditional bird. Son 1 stating he used clean tin snips and a cleaver. I am used to doing an 18-22 pasture raised bird for the gang, so an under 12 pounder had me baffled as to time. I managed to cut the backbone out with poultry shears, but had to pop the breastbone with my cleaver to flatten mine. Son 1 responded with 3, maybe 4 minutes cooking time when I asked, LOL. I put a large sweet potato in the oven when the turkey went in and when I was ready to peel, slice, and season it for the casserole it wasn’t done, so I popped it in the microware, pushed potato and came upstairs. Then I started smelling smoke, the microwave didn’t shut off and the yam was totally cremated and smoke filling the house. Fortunately it is 65 degrees outside so all doors were opened, yam dumped in cold water and a new yam cooked in the microwave with me watching like hawk.
In spite of not having them all here, texting back and forth has been fun, lots of encouragement, laughs, photos, fun. I prepared a traditional Thanksgiving, made the pies from pumpkins I grew, homemade rolls, peas and potatoes from our garden, sweet potatoes from the Farmers Market, fresh cranberries, pickles I made. Olives were purchased, but they don’t grow here. We are stuffed, will be eating turkey until Christmas, have quarts of fresh turkey broth. Everything made in smaller quantities, but made with love.
Happy Thanksgiving from us to you. Maybe next year we can be with our families again.
Seventy Three years ago today, I was born not far from where we now live in retirement. I didn’t grow up here, and visited only once until we bought our farm acreage here in the mountains. My maternal grandfather was born a few miles from our farm and grew up in this county. There is a community that bears his family name. He grew up to become a physician and opened and worked in a hospital a little farther west in West Virginia, where my mother was raised.
I woke this morning to a beautiful fall day that will warm to almost springtime temperatures later and my dear hubby is doing all he can to make this a great day in spite of the isolation from family. As it was getting light outside and doggie and chicken chores were being done, I saw our little deer herd that has been staying near the house as they moved into the thicket to hunker down in safety from the hunters. I will be glad when hunting season is over.
Knowing that I love the Jenkin’s Turkish spindles, he reached out to them and purchased me a gorgeous Ambrosia Maple spindle as a gift. The Jenkins make beautiful spinning equipment and every spindle comes wrapped in fiber from various vendors, many near them. This is my birthday gift from him, a very loving offering.
As Saturday mornings are Farmer’s Market mornings, he got up early and we were at the market as it opened to pick up our pre-ordered goodies. He sits in the car safely as I masked and dash through gathering the vegetables, meats, breads, cheese and butter to add more to the freezer and for the week’s sustenance.
Every year since our first year together in 1977, we have purchased an ornament for our Christmas tree. In years that we had a new child, there would be a baby’s first ornament to add as well. Early years, they were usually a dated Hallmark ornament, but in recent years, we have purchased ones on a vacation or at a craft show. This year with no craft shows, but with the Holiday Markets, I did a quick stop at her stand, and added another one from my potter friend, Bethany, at Dashing Dog Studio.
After it warms a bit more, we will go to my favorite hiking spot and take a walk in the woods together, and later this evening, a curbside pick up of dinner from a restaurant we like, though this year’s birthday dinner will be eaten in the car.
I am fortunate to enter this year still in good health and good physical condition. I hope to see many more, still healthy and young at heart.
During the harvest season, canning jars and especially lids were impossible to locate. Yesterday when we went to meet up with Son 1 and Grandson 1, part of the exchange was taking them 16 pint jars of pickles and salsas, 6 quart jars of Tomatillos, plus two of the chickens from our freezer, along with some herbs grown here and dried, and strings of the drying Thai peppers. I had asked if they could return a similar number of pint jars from prior years.
The day before we left, our curbside grocery pick up did not have the soft drink brand and style that hubby enjoys, so we went to the other larger grocer in town and I masked and slipped in to see if I could purchase them and came out also with a flat of a dozen new pint jars with lids and bands.
When we were preparing to end our visit yesterday and head home, we made the exchange of goods, their filled jars, their old pressure canner that has resided here for 15 years but needs parts available at Rural King, and a few other items, and son loaded a huge box of empty jars in our car, including a brand new still sealed flat of half pint jars, my other go to size. Though the pantry shelves look less full, the jars were filled for them with love and goodness, but the supply for next year is great.
I have 3 dozen empty pint jars, 2 1/2 dozen empty half pint jars and since about half the jars have brand new lids and rings, they can be used for the goodies I can for them for next year. The reusable lids will go on jars that are destined for out use.
The afternoon was gorgeous. After making the lining for the Christmas stocking, blocking the stocking and sewing in the lining and tag, I gathered the dried pepper plants that were hanging in the utility room and carried them with a basket out to sit in the sun on the back deck and clip all of the peppers off of the branches. They will be strung to finish drying, it appears like another couple strings, and the tiniest ones will be infused in vinegar for winter greens.
A walk as the day was fading was added to the day then home for dinner, left in a delayed start oven.
Part of my sadness yesterday was notification that a young member of our extended family has passed away. It isn’t my place to share more, but my thoughts and heart are with the family.
I am happy for the most part today. Last night I finished the knitting and cross stitched tag for the newest grandson’s Christmas stocking. It needs to be steam blocked and the lining made and sewn in.
I’m happy today because we drove a couple hours to the Skyline Drive and met up with Son 1 and Grandson 1 and had a socially distanced, masked visit, and picnic in the woods. We hadn’t seen them in person since last Christmas and miss them terribly. The grandson is now 15 and taller than his 6’1.5″ tall Granddad, but he hasn’t caught up with his Dad yet. It was a chance to take them some of the pickles and salsas that I canned for them and to deliver part of their Christmas gift that we couldn’t mail. We are going to try again in about a month and do another meet up. The time on the road was so worth it.
The drive to and from gave me some spindle spinning time as hubby drove the interstates and while we sat on picnic tables to visit.
Sadness, because we are approaching two holidays where our family tries to gather and won’t this year. We learned today that DIL’s 90some year old grandmother had passed during this pandemic with Covid but we just found out today. I will have to send her Mom a note.
Slowly, through local artisan shopping and online shopping, gifts are being gathered to be wrapped for family members for local delivery to daughter and her kiddos, mailed to the sons and their families. What a different year this will be. Son 1 and his family got me a native bee house to put up in the spring. I enjoyed watching the native bees in the garden this year and look forward to seeing if they occupy the house and produce baby bee families to enjoy the flowers in the gardens. More flowers will be planted in the new walled garden bed next year to expand the options for them. The more flowers available will bring more bees and butterflies.
Cabin Crafted 