Four wheels

    A few nights ago we we were awakened from our sleep by the roar of unmufflered four wheelers racing up and down the hollow.   On and on it went.  Finally they rode off out of ear shot.

    The next afternoon a "Poker run" of more than 75 four wheelers went up the road raising billows of dust and making a fair amount of noise.  They were raising money for a good cause or so they said.  Maybe they could have just donated their time and the gas money.

     But the following grey drizzly day another set of four wheelers went up the road.  No noise other that some chat and the clop clop of draft horse shoes.  This wagon train of locals was on one of their periodic treks over the dirt roads up on the ridge.  I opened the window and could actually carry on a conversation with the riders.  No blaring motors or dust.  One could hear the periodic snorting of the horses.  Some of the folks were on individual mounts.  

     We went from bad to good in just a couple of days.

Agra Mining

     I watched today as I drove south on US 23 a large mechanical spraying machine moving over a bottom land field at an amazing pace.  With spraying arms extended it looked like some type of big insect with appendages spreading venom.

    But I refocused on the sarvisberry trees.  Sarvisberrys seem to be the first wild trees to bloom in Appalachia. Sarvisberry is the common name for genus Amelanchier.  I always look at their blooms as the precursor to the dogwoods (we have a nice stand of dogwoods on the farm).  In this small southern Ohio town there are a number of cultivated flowering pear trees blooming.  One of the Almelancheir common names is wild pear.

    The sun and cool weather made the drives and walks today very pleasant.

Dogwoods

     The dogwoods are out!  The air is warm and the grass is growing.  Everything seems to be waking up and blooming.  Some blooms have been damped down by some frost at night, but the dogwoods and trilliums jump out of the barely green woods.  The frog eggs are gone.  Tadpoles are growing and providing food for other residents.  The fish are coming closer to the surface.  I am sure the bass can't wait for some tadpoles to grow up.

     A friend rescued a baby cardinal 13 years ago.  It bonded with her and now lives in her house.  These days it starts it's cardinal sounds around 6:15 am.  That wakes up the dogs who then start scratching at their crates to get up.  So my friend goes to bed early!!  This cardinal will also whistle a cat call occasionally.  Cardinals typically live around 13 years in the wild but have been known to live up to 28 years in domestic situations.  I love to see that red bird against the increasing green of spring.

Strength

      I listened to a ER person in Boston talk on NPR about how relatively calm some of the severely injured are.  Even though their futures will be changed she said they feel fortunate to be alive.  I guess people are not like cars.  You can't really "total" them.  Even when they are severely damaged they can drive on in other ways.

      I hope the perpetrator heard this.  They can know that it was not mission accomplished for them.  Three cannot answer they will continue on but 100 + others say they will.

      We must resist the temptation to hide or react by restricting freedoms that make life worth living.  Strength is living free and openly.

Frog eggs

     On a walk the other day we noticed frog eggs each containing a little tadpole.  The eggs were in two large drainage area puddles away from the bass and other predators.  But a crawfish was swimming around in the mass of eggs looking for a meal.  Once hatched, the tadpoles that live to be adults will likely head the short distance to the pond.  There Mr. Bass will be a constant threat.

     We also saw an egg laying on the rock at the end of the pond.  It was slightly smaller than a chicken egg and was likely stolen from a nest somewhere.  A day later the shell was cracked open and the contents were eaten.

     After a winter's rest everything wants to wake up and live.

Scioto River Valley

    Spending time in the Scioto River Valley reminds me that they are a zone ahead of us.  It is greener and things are in bloom here that we are still looking forward to back home.  But poverty, drugs, and low life expectations are casting a lasting cloud over the bottomland soils.  The decline in the economy and increase in those "getting a check" is eroding the work ethic and removing good role models for the young.

    As a small farmer I lust after the tilled fields of  black bottom land soil. I am sure it is "mined" using industrial fertilizers and pesticides.  I wish I could take a few big truckloads back home and make it healthy again (and grow a ton of veggies).

    It was hot and humid here yesterday but it is lettuce weather today; cool and damp. Tonight we are off to the country reality show known as a karaoke bar well off the main highway.  While there my friends here (who are not well to do) will point out those who "get a check from SSI" but are out whooping it up on Friday night.  They usually look pretty able bodied to me. But I guess it is no worse than corporate welfare.

    Rural america seems to increasingly be a sacrifice zone.

Peepers V 2.0

    I wrote about the peepers in past posts but yesterday was a new milestone in peeper decibel levels.  On a walk to the back pond we were able to sneak up really close to a group of them in a wetland. They were silly loud, I mean LOUD!!  But it was kind of like listening to a song on the stereo that you love.  You want to just crank it up.  It was flat out wonderful.

    We came back from that walk and unloaded a truck of horse manure on the freshly tilled area in the garden.  Course the little dog wanted to grab some "pucks" and we had to keep her at bay.  After all that frozen cold ground this winter manure is now a taste treat for a beagle mix.

    Went into town today and it was in the 80's.  Kind of winter to summer in one jump.  It is supposed to cool down again courtesy of the storm coming east that whacked Denver.

    The old unoccupied homestead we own down the hill has a sea of daffodils in bloom.  They seem to spread each year.  What a delight to see all that yellow and green.  Of course the birds are now in heaven.  They are feasting on the grubs and worms tilled up in the garden and crawling out of that composted manure.

Eat up friends and then sing.

Peepers finally!!

"O Frabjous Day Callooh Callay"  the peepers serenaded us last night.  The windows were open and the sweet sounds and smells were flowing in.  Peepers are better than any sleeping pill.  They seem to peep all is secure and well.  One can lay there and feel blessed to hear their song.

So warm today but got to the farm late so no time to walk.  The little dog is snug in her bed. A good walk and sniff on the list for tomorrow.

Springs and spring

     Gushing is the only way to describe the spring at the back pond right now.  The freezing and thawing has opened everything up and a big clear stream can't wait to get out of the hill.  I am sure the fish in the pond it feeds are loving the fresh water.  They are now coming up to the surface as the temps are rising fast.

     It is time to spring into spring, get the equipment ready, get rotted manure on the garden, and at least  think about some tilling.  The fence around the garden is finally toast and will need to be replaced with an 8' one due to the increased deer pressure.

     Won't be long that we will be tasting our first greens.

   

The Birds are Ready

     A cold day today at the farm.  It has been 20 degrees below normal for the last couple of days and it still looks pretty brown.  But the birds feel it is time to get on with spring as do the snowdrops and crocuses.  The sun was welcome but I got home too late from town to take advantage of a walk.

     Deer are lurking too close to the garden already.  There are so many that they are eating at the multiflora rose bushes.  Looks like we need a King Kong fence around the garden to keep them out.  They can destroy lots of veggies in a short period.  At least we don't have ground hogs.  Old Hank and Bosco wiped them out but now that they have passed we may see the whistlepigs again.

   

Back to the Farm

    Following years of business travel I am now able to turn more attention to Flying Ewe Farm.  The land lived its own, largely undisturbed, life during my periodic absences.  I walk around and feel it welcoming me back. There are some sad looking fence posts and hanging wire.  But all can be brought back.  Ideas are forming for new pastures and improved cattle tanks.

   One can learn a lot by looking down at the ground and up at the trees. A hummingbird nest and crayfish holes are just some of the treats.  Staring at the pond waiting for fish to come close to the surface.  Looking out at and over the hills and studying the clouds (and my navel if it wasn't so cold and I needed to be so bundled).  

   The little dog pulls me around and makes me stop and look around as she sniffs and digs. She drinks in the land and its gifts.  Millions of nasal receptors form a vision of her surroundings.  A long walk fills them with memories she can lay in her dog bed and dream about.