Beautiful morning on Sweet Bay Bald

 

November Hill farm journal, 232

 It’s been over a month since I last posted, partly because we have a lot of birthdays in April, which tends to make it a busier month, and partly because of some major family stuff going on that has taken a lot of all our energies. 

My mom had some kind of stroke event, was hospitalized, seemed to bounce back, then declined, and has been discharged home for over a week now with hospice care. We are grateful that she has been in and out of awareness, even with her dementia, so that we’ve been able to sit with her, hold her constantly moving hands, and have a few moments of her knowing who we are and that we love her. She’s 92, at home in her own room, has my brother taking amazing care of her along with his son, a seasoned ICU nurse, and she is not in any pain. This is how she wanted to go, and I’m so glad it’s the way it’s turned out. 

My daughter had a sudden and serious vision issue happen, which necessitated a quick visit to eye doctor, who referred to eye care center, where she was seen quickly and diagnosed, and received an injection into her eye. They’ll monitor this closely and I’m grateful for good and quick care with this. 

Our cat Pippin had a sudden bladder blockage and had to go to the ER hospital where he was admitted for a couple of nights and treated. He’s home and back to normal.

All three of us have been sick with some kind of cold/flu thing. I’m coughing as hard as I can ever remember doing, and have now gone onto antibiotics. I shudder to think what this would be like had I not gotten the flu shot and the Covid booster. 

All that said, November Hill is a glorious jungle and even the fact that every single inch of it needs either mowing or weeding or pruning doesn’t deter me from loving its lush beauty right now. All I can see out any window is greenery. I don’t like the hot summer months much, nor the biting annoying insects, but whenever I look at the richness of our foliage I rejoice. 

I’m also grateful for family, friends, my amazing grandchildren, and all my animal family. And, during this time with much stress around me, a new and very big season of Escape To The Country on Britbox. This show got me through the first administration, and its doing its best right now. Also, Jeni’s ice cream, the pineapple upside down cake flavor. Oh my gosh is it good. 

I’m doing the littlest bit of writing, slightly more reading, not enough gardening, and honestly, not enough barn time with the equines lately, but looking forward to the rest of May and getting back to these things that sustain me. 

Right now, I’m feeling hugged by November Hill. 

May the forest be with us all! (And the Force!)

November Hill farm journal, 231

 

Spring is here on November Hill. The dogwoods are gorgeous this year, the redbuds are still going, and things are coming up in the various beds and natural areas of the farm. 

A partial list:

Mayapple

Baptisia

Columbine

Goldenrod

Mountain mint

Bee balm

Stokes aster

Coneflower

I’m working some every day to get beds prepped for spring/onward, and will be working on the Poplar Folly path as well. As happens every spring here, the place is all abuzz with activity. I’ve seen swallowtails and all kinds of native bees plus of course our honeybee girls. 

Little Man has had a corneal scratch that has required some care and a vet visit, but he’s okay and all the equines are eager for the green that’s coming up in the pastures. This week we’ll likely switch to some version of night-time turn-out, though I’m hoping we might be able to do a 20/24 thing for awhile - ie in stalls for rest time during the warmest part of the day with fans on, then out the rest of the time. 

This week I’m thinking a lot about our country and the resistance movement that is happening. I’m also thinking about Maggie Smith’s amazing poem, Good Bones. I think it fits, and I do believe that the last line is something to keep all of us going. We can make this place beautiful. 

Good Bones

By Maggies Smith

Life is short, though I keep this from my children.

Life is short, and I’ve shortened mine

in a thousand delicious, ill-advised ways,

a thousand deliciously ill-advised ways

I’ll keep from my children. The world is at least

fifty percent terrible, and that’s a conservative

estimate, though I keep this from my children.

For every bird there is a stone thrown at a bird.

For every loved child, a child broken, bagged,

sunk in a lake. Life is short and the world

is at least half terrible, and for every kind

stranger, there is one who would break you,

though I keep this from my children. I am trying

to sell them the world. Any decent realtor,

walking you through a real shithole, chirps on

about good bones: This place could be beautiful,

right? You could make this place beautiful.

November Hill farm journal, 230

This past weekend, without a lot of forethought, I marched down to Poplar Folly with my electric weedeater, hedge trimmer, hand clippers, and hand saw, and started making a path. My husband brought the cardboard down for me, as a way to mark it, and I got busy cutting out wild blackberry and much Japanese honeysuckle. Anything not native was soon gone. 

I went along the path first, then branched out to random groupings of invasive vines. 

I moved fallen branches to the berms I created in the past couple of years, helping slow the flow of rainwater down the slope. There are a couple of fallen trees in the other side from where I’m facing in the photo, and that is phase two - cutting those into lengths suitable to continue marking the path I’m building.  I want a path that I can keep clear as I let natives volunteer in the rest of the Folly. I’ll keep the path clear and I’ll continue removing invasives.

I’ve planted a number of things down in Poplar Folly: elderberry, Virginia sweetspire, persimmon, chickasaw plum, inkberry holly, redbud. Even more have volunteered: black gum, many hollies, hickory, buckeye, red mulberry, Christmas ferns, golden crownbeard, little brown jug. 

It’s a beautiful wooded slope with a winding path that will soon make it easier to navigate, and easier to maintain. It occurs to me that building a path is what I’m doing with my hands, but it’s also a metaphor for what we’re all doing in this country right now. Building a path of resistance and in my opinion, toward a better country. I believe we will get there.

The farm is waking up to spring right now. The redbud finally bloomed, now the dogwood is starting up. The poplars are leafing out. The daffodils are almost done. 

Cody and Little Man and the two handsome donka boys are shedding and rolling and galloping about.

It’s time to plant the potager, but first we have to clear the beds out and get them ready. I went to the feed store last weekend for the first time in many, many months. My husband has been doing the feed trips and when I walked in I remembered why I used to love going. I may have to take that chore back. 

The honey bee girls are busy and we’ve already gone from two hives coming out of winter to a third (empty) hive being moved into. That is another chore that needs to be done - getting the two empty hives cleared out and readied to take runaway splits. We’ll see how it goes. 

We’re entering the birthday sweep this week: grandson, then Little Man, husband, daughter. May is our quiet birthday month, then we have Bear, Rafer Johnson, and granddaughter during summertime. Summer! It’s hard to imagine the year has turned so far, so quickly. 

What I Want My Taxes To Pay For