Summer Afternoon, Summer Afternoon

Since mid-June when I started preparations for my MIL's 95th birthday party, it's been a roller coaster ride. Her birthday was the 23rd but we celebrated on the 28th and had about fifty people with all save seven near or distant kin. The birthday girl is seated on the right and her friend, playmate and cousin since birth, Tece, is seated on her left. Tece is one family name and "Sitter" is the other; seems like "sitter" was the only way another family member could pronounce "sister". Don't you love old family stories and connections?

This is the newest member of the clan, Nicholas, son of Beth and Michael. Nicholas, hopefully never to be known as Nick, is almost a year old and a delight. But then, he would be. He has the Very Nicest parents and two of my favorite people in Dave's family.

Dave and I took a couple of days off and headed to Winston Salem for some Much Needed R&R. Along the way, we saw these two-humped camels next door in Bland County. The landowner moved here from Florida, or so I've been told, and bought or brought camels. They appear to be molting so perhaps he doesn't know the fiber is desired amongst hand spinners.

There are two hummingbird feeders on the front porch and it's one of our daily joys to sit on the front porch, catch up on our day, watch the humming birds and drink a glass of wine. I've found two humming bird nests and brought them to the house where they rest in our sunroom and are a delight. Both nests are made from fiber, some call it horsehair, from our American Curly horses and are tiny, perfect examples of God's creation doing what it does best...glorying God by doing what He intended.
Like the poet Henry James said, "Summer afternoon, summer afternoon. The two most beautiful words in the English language." And I agree even though summer afternoons, and mornings, are filled with work. I awake at, or near, dawn, listen to the birds for a while, think over my day, pray a bit, then roll out of bed. House animals need to be let out, fed and quieted with a treat then I head to the barn to tend to the barn cats and kittens, feed the stallion, check the mineral buckets, eyeball all the sheep and horses, walk the barn lot and, in general, eyeball the immediate area for anything that looks out of place.

Today I headed back to the house and started making lime pickles and will post photos and a recipe later. I've only been home a few days and am playing catch up with my own work, family and farm. Mother had knee surgery and I went to cook, clean and help with the garden. While I was there I did a bit of spring cleaning as well as visited with Mom and Daddy. Both are still very active, Daddy is the Board of Supervisor member for his Amelia district and Mom is on the library board. They instilled in all three of their children a Very Strong Work Ethic and it pains us to "sit and do nothing". Idle hands are the devils' tools so we tend to keep busy. In the summer we have gardens and can, freeze or dry food for the winter; in the winter we quilt, do needlework, knit or keep busy with church work. Daddy takes seriously the Biblical admonition to "help widows and orphans" and gives generously from his garden and orchard produce.

I feel sorry for people who don't have meaningful work in their lives. Meaningful work is a blessing and a gift, both to oneself and to others, keeps one healthy, makes one wealthy and staves off trouble.

Blessings ~ meaningful work ~ family ~ God's creation ~ garden produce ~ rest ~ Summer afternoon, summer afternoon ~

A Likely Yarn

Prior to this month, the nearest yarn shop was located more than one hundred miles from Thistle Cove Farm. All that has changed with the opening of A Likely Yarn in Abingdon, VA. At only fifty miles, it's a real uptick for me and means I can, God willing and the creek don't rise, visit more than once or twice a year.

It's always a delight to catch up with Jane Plaugher who was the featured spinner on opening day. I met Jane several years ago at the first Shenandoah Fiber Festival when Leslie Shelor, Linda Wright and I went away for a fibery weekend.

Janet Woolwine, the owner, is a delightful woman and has built a lovely shop in Zazzy's, a locally owned coffee shop with computers for customer use. The location is great and the atmosphere is conducive to lingering with friends and new friends. I believe there's going to be a knit-in every Tuesday evening and this weekend there's a discount for all eco or green yarns.

She also carries the Omega Shawl pattern by Chris Bylsma; it's a moebius type shawl and goes over the head to wrap around the shoulders. It should be quite the thing to ward off chills yet keep my hands free for tasks. A LYS trip is in the making!
I'm so pleased there's a new yarn shop at a, relatively speaking, close distance to me. A Likely Yarn's website isn't up yet but promises to be wonderful with design work by Blonde Chicken. Speaking of Blonde Chicken, she's spinning up some pretty yarn based on her adventures to the Johnson City, TN Farmers' Market. It's a really cute idea, you should check it out.

Speaking of yarn, I've got some white yarn that needs dyeing but Lord only knows when I'll find time to dye. My mother-in-law will be 95 next week and we're planning a birthday picnic for her on the 28th of June; all my "spare" time is going toward getting the house clean and the farm looking spiffy. Heck, my knitting needles have lain dormant for a while now; tempus fugit and it's all I can do to keep up. Run, rabbit, run!

Blessings ~ a new yarn shop ~ knitting ~ cooler days ~ yarn to dye ~ a clean house ~

Spring in The Cove

In order to get anywhere we have to leave our valley, affectionately and simply called "The Cove" but, officially called "Ward's Cove". The Ward family settled here generations ago, back in the 1700's closely followed by the Bowen's, Dave's mothers' family. They got here in the mid-1700's and staked their claim via a land grant...or so the story goes.

Anyway, the photo above is what we rest our eyes upon when we return from a shopping expedition. That's Thistle Cove Farm in the far distance, the smallest farm in the valley at a little fewer than thirty acres. The next largest farm is a few thousand acres and we're all bordered, on the backside, by a national forest. It's a lovely place to live and I never, never tire of gazing upon God's beauty.

This is one of the ways we can drive home; I love the canopy of trees and the filtered sunlight speckling the roads reminding me of a speckled hen. We often see deer on this road and, sometimes, a sow or her cub. We have bald eagles nesting in our valley, contrary to what the Game and Inland Fisheries Department says. They say no bald eagles nest here but they are wrong and wrong is, quite often, what one is when one relies upon books instead of first hand observation.

Daddy and Robert were gathering honey a few days ago. It was So Hot the bees were gathered on the outside of the hive, using their wings to cool down the inside of the hive. This time of year poplar honey is what the bees are making and it's a rich, dark, sensuous honey that lingers on the tongue. Next month bees will be making linden, aka basswood, honey, an almost clear honey that's as delicate in flavor as a bride's wedding veil.

A lot of bee keepers will use gloves, hat and suit to collect the honey but if a person is calm, quiet and gentle around the bees they will, generally, not sting. A honey bee only has one sting and once that sting has been used, the bee dies. How unlike a wasp or bumblebee...those can sting over and over and over and...UGH!

Anyway, I've grown up around honey bees and their hives and have never been stung while collecting honey. I've never known Daddy nor Robert to wear "protective gear" and they only times they have been stung is when they've done something stupid. Robert put his arm down on the hive and crushed a bee between his arm and the hive; ergo, the bee stung him. It was a clear case of self defense. Steve, my brother, has been keeping bees for decades and is allergic but has never been stung by a willful bee. Bees are gentle creatures, even when someone is robbing their hive of their hard gained honey. A bee will travel more than five miles to collect nectar to bring back to the hive for the worker bees to turn into honey.

This is honey in the comb and once the bees are "smoked" off the honey can be cut out and slathered on home made biscuits...YUMALICIOUS! Oh and if there's home churned butter as well...then you have a little preview of heaven!

Bee keepers use a smoker, into which they place a little paper and a bit of burlap bag. This makes the bee lethargic and calmer, in turn, they fly back to the hive and give up their claims on the honey in hand. It's a humane way to manage bees and bee keepers have done so for generations.

We had a storm yesterday and today and the rain is most welcome even though it's hay cutting season. We need to have our hay cut and had contracted with a neighbor to cut today. Fortunately, the rain came before he could cut so, hopefully, the next few days will be sunny and warm. We're keeping all our hay this year; in year's past we've contracted on halves with other horse owners. Last year's drought meant we had to buy hay out of North Dakota...expensive!...so we're keeping our hay this year. We should, please God, have enough to feed our horses and, perhaps sell a bit as well.

Back to the storm...the winds were horrific and blew over the hammock stand. That stand is heavy, made of steel and the wind blew it over like it weighed nothing.

In the photo below you can see the bird feeder swaying to the left as the wind blows. Even now, hours later, water is pouring from the skies and the thirsty earth is drinking her fill.

Blessings ~ rain ~ honey ~ beauty ~ home made food ~ health ~ a hot shower ~

Happy Sabbath

"May God bless you with discomfort at easy answers, half truths and superficial relationships so that you may live deep within your heart.
May God bless you with anger at injustice, oppression, and exploitation of people, so that you may wish for justice, freedom, and peace.
May God bless you with enough foolishness to believe that you can make a difference in this world, so that you can do what others claim cannot be done."

A Franciscan blessing

Blessings ~ Sundays, a day of relaxation & recreation ~ wise words ~ rain for a thirsty Earth ~ our Pastor, a good, decent & honorable man ~ stout hearts

Phoebe

~ Phoebe ~

We have a new family member; her name is Phoebe and she's about eight months old. A number of years ago, Dave made me promise I wouldn't pick up any strays on the road. Which is pretty difficult to promise and almost imposible not to do. I wish people could be horsewhipped in public for dropping animals on the road and I absolutely *hate* cleaning someone else's mess. I've heard it all...I'm giving the animal a second chance. Maybe someone else will give it a home. The animal shelter is too depressing.

Yeah. Right. What it amounts to, people, is you're too sorry to do the right thing by the animal. Take it to the shelter where, yes, it might be killed, put down, destroyed or even, GASP! adopted. But At The Very Least it will die a decent death. It won't be torn to pieces by a pack of wild dogs or coyotes. It won't die, slowly, twisting in agony because it ingested poison. It won't die, slowly, painfully because it was hit by a car and unable to find a morsel of food. It won't die, slowly, in anguish because it got caught in a snare and died, in a few days or weeks, of thirst or starvation.

PEOPLE...DO THE RIGHT THING!

The people who need to read the above are out dropping off dogs; not reading my blog so the rest of you, please forgive the rant.

Phoebe. What a beautiful little girl. She looks a lot like Shaddie, our Ridgeback, but, I don't think, is going to be quite as big. That's a good thing as Shaddie weighs around 110 pounds. Some evil person, perhaps the same one who flung her out on the road, also mistreated her. It took a week of twice daily feedings to gentle her even though her personality said, "I want to be loved, I'm a good dog and want to trust you."

Even when we brought her home, Sunday night, she was cowed and shying away. It took a lot of gentle, slow moving around her; lots of treats, hugs and kisses to bring her around. There's been a small altercation between Poebe and Abigail but that was over a dog bone. Abbie has always been, and will always be, top dog around here and, while she shares, she, sometimes, does so grudingly. Anyway, Abbie snuck around and stole Phoebe's bone and the next thing I knew, the fight was on. Teeth were bared, snarles exchanged but no one used their teeth to bite. Thank God. It was a show of strength and wills and I'm keeping a close eye on both until Phoebe has settled in. That should take a month or so for me to think things are working out.

Yes, I did get out of my sick bed to go with Dave across the mountain. He decided we were going to bring this girl home and wanted me to help. How could I possibly say "no"?

See how much Phoebe resembles Shaddie?

~ Shaddie ~

~ Gracie, foreground; Hattie Cat, background; 91 on lower portion of grill and Boscoe Man on grill lid. This is the grill I use for dyeing my wool and is used as a cat perch the rest of the time. By the way, 91 received her name when I found her, twelve years ago, sitting by the side of Rt. 91. She was a tiny, tiny kitten and was snatched out of a, potentially, deadly situation to come to Thistle Cove Farm.
~ Abigail ~

Blessings - a happy household ~ sunshiney day ~ last night's rain ~ a great life ~ delicious, sweet well water ~ good health, once again ~

Sheep Is Life

There's some sort of epizootics going around and, lucky me, I picked it up. I've been flat on my back and the days have, totally, run together. Today is the first day I've been at the computer in a week, maybe longer, and I'm still weaker than the new kittens playing in the barn loft.

The 12th annual Sheep is Life Celebration is in a few weeks but, alas, I can visit only via i-net. It's one of my dreams to visit this celebration, held at the Greyhills Academy Campus on the Navajo Nation in Tuba City, AZ. It's presented by Diné be’ iiná, Inc., a nonprofit organization and workshops, hands-on demos, vendors, rug auction and sheep and wool show round out the festivities.

Sometimes I think we should have our own sheep is life celebration in the southern Appalachians. Sheep have provided meat and fleece in these old mountains since they were brought over from Scotland, Ireland, Wales and England. In days past, sheep gut was used to make condoms and violin strings but was, erroneously, called cat gut. Clinton, neighbor and shearer, has one of the largest sheep flocks in the Commonwealth of VA; probably east of the Mississippi for that matter. He runs about six hundred ewes and lambs in the spring and less than that as he sells to market. He also runs a few goats as there's a large ethnic market for goat meat. Somehow I doubt any of his sheep or goats have names and he looks askance when I say, "oh, that's Sophie you've just finished shearing."

But, differences are what makes us alike and it takes all of us to make the world go 'round. It's only in western, "civilized" countries that we name, tame and keep our animals as pets; in other parts of the world those same animals are knows as "supper". I tell Dave we can't save them all so we save the ones we can.

Did I mention he's gone over the mountan to feed a stray dog? He's been trying to gentle this dog for a week, ever since I've been sick, and feeding it twice a day. Dave thinks she, the dog, would respond to a female voice and as soon as I'm able, I'll ride across the mountain with him. We don't need another dog, our dog girls are in double digit numbers now but Dave says this stray is beautiful and has tugged at his heart. What the hey. We'll do like we do at supper and put another potatoe in the pot. There's always room at the table for a hungry belly.

St. Francis of Assissi would be proud.

Blessings ~ spring ~ well health, coming again soon, hopefully ~ the i-net, keeping us connected ~ good books ~ zinneas ~ animals on the bed, keeping me company as I heal ~

Blackberry Winter

We're home and had a great time on our cruise although fifteen days on a ship, any ship, is worthy of a medal. My hat is off to those Navy boys and girls, men and women...my heartfelt thanks to each and every one. To all of our military and to family members who are serving near and far...thank you!

A cruise is the absolute best way, probably the least expensive way as well, to see so many countries, cities and countrysides in such a short period of time. We went trans-Atlantic then visited the Azores Islands and Lisbon, Portugal; Cadiz, Andalucia, Malaga, Barcelona, Spain; Corsica, France; Civitavecchia, Tarquinia, Livorno, Pisa and Florence, Italy; Villefranche, Nice, Ese, France and Monte Carlo, Monoco. A great trip, wonderful memories and time well spent...just Dave and I. Well, okay. So there were a few thousand other people on the ship but Dave and I took advantage of every opportunity.

I managed to, almost, finish needlepointing a pair of pillow cases. As soon as I've washed, dried and ironed them photos will be posted. I've got a good early start on Christmas gifts.

We came home to Blackberry Winter and low temps, cold rains, high winds. We've all been wearing sweaters and hats and, some days, jackets to ward off the chill. Blackberry Winter is the reverse of Indian Summer. It's that season in spring, after a warm spell, when blackberry vines are blooming, that the temps revert to winter. Frost is a possibility, although we've not had frost this spring, but cold weather, along with high winds and rain can always be counted upon. We awoke to warmer temps today and the sun is shining; animals are lazing around and birds clustered at the feeder. After almost two weeks of cold, wind, rain...life is, suddenly, brighter, more cheerful and full of expectation.

Unfortunately, Blackberry Winter, usually, kills my tulips and other early blooming beauties but that only means summer is closer than it was and soon we'll be thinking about cutting hay.

Life is darn near perfect!

Blessings ~ time with Dave ~ peace on the farm while we were gone ~ Spring ~ Blackberry Winter ~ Summer ~ gardens ~