November Hill farm journal, 234

 

My husband took this photo of the very long black snake in the barnyard this week. Wow! Hopefully this snake is working for us with mouse patrol around the barn and keeping venomous snakes away. Though I wouldn’t mind if he (or she) broadens the territory some, as I encountered what I am almost certain was a copperhead in my upper pollinator bed beside the house on Saturday. 

We had many days of rain last week and gray skies, and I finally got out on Saturday with some energy to continue garden bed tasks. I didn’t take any photos but the milkweed is attracting so many bees right now, and also butterflies. A few things in bloom other than the milkweed: butterfly weed, Stokes aster, horse nettle (prickly and frankly annoying but the bees love it so I let them have their pollen), coneflowers, narrow-leafed mountain mint, and New England asters. 

What’s coming soon: bee balm, short-leafed mountain mint, and probably some things I missed. 

The figwort is coming up really nicely and many other things are thriving and will be in bloom later in the season. 

It is a jungle and although I said a few weeks ago that I have officially lost control, I might temper that just a bit to say I am hanging on by a thread, but not ready to give up yet!

The main thing is the smartweed, which is just driving me mad in the pollinator beds. I need to fix my long-handled 4-prong fork, which will make it a lot easier to pull out without disturbing the natives and the insects. And also will allow me to keep some distance from snakes and poison ivy, which, yes, has come into the upper two beds. Ugh. 

Our big chainsaw is finally out of the shop, so hopefully one morning this week my husband can bring it into Poplar Folly and cut some fallen branches and one actual dead tree into suitable lengths to line my woodland path. I have made a good start on it and will keep the path clear even as the jungle encroaches down there. A lot of what is coming up back there are natives, so if I can keep the emerging pathway clear and keep the Japanese honeysuckle and stiltweed knocked down, that will be a big step forward. It’s a work in progress but having a clear path will make everything else easier. 

The herd is good, the pack is happy, and the curiosity of cats is sassy as usual. We’re all busy and managing the things life tosses in our paths. 

I’m managing the loss of my mom pretty well. I burst into tears yesterday because I suddenly really, really missed Keil Bay. I have his bridle in my garret now and when I hold it I can feel his jaws, his ears, his throat and muzzle in my hands. 

It’s June. Yesterday morning it was 50 degrees F when I woke up. I wish that were the new normal, but we’re looking at high 80s and low 90s this week, so the NC temperature pendulum is swinging back to summer temps. 

Goodbye, Mom, I have already dreamed a visit with you!

 

My mom passed away on Saturday. She was 91, in her own home, with amazing hospice care and the even more amazing care of my brother, who has managed the lion’s share of her care for the past few years with grace and good spirits. 

I was fortunate to have some good moments with her in the past month, when the cloud of dementia seemed to clear and she was able to have brief but lucid communication with me. 

She was an amazing woman and I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone who knew her who didn’t wholeheartedly agree with that statement. She accepted people as they were, without judgment, and she spent most of her life standing up for those whose voices were not heard. She worked in NC government her entire career, closely supporting three NC Democratic governors who did good things and who valued her thoughtful compassion for all. The last chapter of her career was as the Executive Secretary of the NC Industrial Commission. She took on this complex role and learned it inside and out. The work she did there was highly regarded by the team of attorneys and the Board of Commissioners who worked with her. 

As a mom, she did anything and everything possible to ensure her three children were loved and supported. She told me from the time I was little that I could do anything I wanted to. She was beloved by my and my brothers’ friends, who experienced her warmth and support regularly. 

She was a terrific grandma too, the only person my children were allowed to stay with through their childhoods. I’m sure it was her modeling that fed the fierce “mama bear” mode that kicks in with my own children, my grandchildren, my animals, and through the years as I worked with children who very much needed my advocacy as clients. 

I have so many memories and stories. Last night I had a dream that was hard but in the end hopeful, and at the end of that dream my mom arrived, fully free from dementia, able in body, and we spent the rest of that very long meandering dream time by the sea somewhere in England, listening to the ocean and perusing an open air market for coffee and some food, looking at gift items, and talking the way we always did, about everything. I hope it’s the first of many of the dreamtime visits we will have. I don’t know what happens when we die, but I do know that the spirits of my dad, Keil Bay, and other beloved friends whether human or 4-legged are with me often. I’m grateful. 

I’m also grateful for being able to be with my brothers on Saturday as we said goodbye to her, remembered some of the many stories, cried, hugged, and talked a little about what this next stage of life will look like for us. 

Love you, mom. I hope you’re with dad dancing in the open air pavilion you told me about, when you were first married and he was stationed in Alabama. See you in the dreamtime! 

November Hill farm journal, 233

 Such a busy week, with work, good time with grandkids and my son, writing weekend, and some much-needed farm time to catch up with a few chores. There’s so much going on in the country, the world, and in my smaller piece of the world, and it seems true for everyone I talk with. May we all find ways to do good work, find our joy, and get time with loved ones. 

Some of my joy today was taking a little time to photograph some of the native plantings on the farm. 

This is the possumhaw viburnum I planted some years back, along the fence and barnyard gate. There are two but this one seems to be truly happy in its space and is huge and beautiful. 

This is the white baptisia, which always blooms later than the indigo one just beyond it. 

Here are the two possumhaws - the one on the right is much less full and gets maybe a smidge less sunlight through the day. 

Along the side strip these ferns come in every year and the green and golds have now volunteered for two years in front of them. They’re hard to spot here but I’m so happy to see them!

One of the 7 viburnums I planted in front of the fence a couples of years ago. This one is down by the bird haven area. This stretch of the fence gets more shade and nothing I’ve planted seems to be thriving there, but this little viburnum is hanging on for now. 

Its neighbor, also hanging on but not growing much. 

Further up this one is taller and I’m hoping these keep growing. 

This one is healthy but still on the short side. 

This one is spreading out, between two bayberries. My goal up here is a hedgerow for screening and for the birds and insects and other wildlife. 

This one is doing super well, in a much sunnier part of the fence line. 

The first bloom on this oakleaf hydrangea. It was eaten to the ground by deer and then I moved it forward to a sunnier position. It’s coming back and I’m thrilled to see the first bloom!

I have a lot of work to do with the gardens but I’m happy to see things are green and growing and in some cases, blooming. 

A good day. 

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

 

Refreshing Stillwater

 Wheeeeeee!

Doing some spring cleaning, smudging, and refreshing the energy at Stillwater this weekend. Out with the old, in with the new. 

So excited to be hosting writers and other creative artists in 2025. And to have plenty of family time as well. 

November Hill farm journal, 229

 

This photo popped up today, early spring, Keil Bay at the top November Hill. Life was good. 

He’s still with us!

You know it’s spring when I am out clearing winter foliage from the beds and have itchy arms because I have a very bad habit of not wearing gloves or even shirts with sleeves. 

I’m putting myself on notice this year that I cannot go near the beds without one or both. 

The redbuds are late this year and as one of the most visible signs for me that spring has come are its tiny fuchsia flowers. I hope to see them soon.

As always there are many spring chores to do. I’m continuing my practice of doing a little of a number of things each day, making the process more tolerable and steady. 

It still looks a lot like winter outside but the temps have warmed up again and seeing the first bed cleared and now ready for weeding is such a spring thing I feel the mixed messaging. It should look more like spring!

My days are full and good. We all need that right now - things to do that sustain us. Once again, November Hill provides what I need. 

Bloom

 

Last Sunday my son and grandchildren were here and the first two daffodils bloomed! 

Healing in progress. 

I highly recommend EMDR if you’ve lived through trauma in your life. Find a therapist who received EMDRIA-approved training and who uses EMDR regularly in their work with clients. It’s powerful, quick, and effective. 

Call, show up, email your Senators and Representatives - do not stop!

 It’s incredibly important right now to talk loudly to your Congress people about the many illegal acts being perpetrated by trump and elon. Even if your people are GOP and you think it won’t matter. It will and it does. Even if your people are Dems and you think you don’t need to. You do. 

This is a time when our voices must unify and be very very loud. 

Our actions must be bold and consistent. 

Communicate.

Show up.

Protest.

Boycott.

If you don’t know how or where, check out Indivisible and 5 Calls online. 

Winter Sunset, November Hill

 

The trees are grounding me. Every day I am making calls to Senators and Representatives, chairs of committees, and one thankful call to our Attorney General, who is doing good things for our state and modeling how it’s done for others. 

The daily routines of life on this little farm go on. They, too, are grounding. 

Right now a brilliant red male cardinal is climbing the front porch stair rail as if he is coming to knock on the door to say hello. 

Yesterday I was in an EMDR training that was truly exciting. I’m so very happy to be doing that work, especially now. 

If you’re stressing what’s happening in our country, in our world, take even one small action. Then ground yourself in routines, in noticing something beautiful, like this sunset, which went from this explosion of color to a burning ember orange as the sun pushed lower on the horizon. 

The small actions we take are like burning embers. Trust that they are working, quietly, powerfully, ready to burst into full flame when the conditions are right. 

November Hill farm journal, 228

 

I love this photo of Cody recently because it shows how well he (and Keil Bay) blend into the winter landscape on November Hill. The oak leaves this magnificent tree holds onto each year are a definite red bay and chestnut color. I also love how the oak is almost growing out of Cody. He offers strength to me since Keil Bay passed away. He reminds me that we are all securely anchored here on November Hill. In this current political climate, in personal family matters, we are grounded, we are anchored, we will stand our ground. 

Our weather went from very cold to very warm and now back to more normal NC winter cold. This week looks chillier and rainy so I’m glad a load of shavings will arrive today to top off the stalls for some cozy barn time for the herd. 

I also have to say that our old farm truck Bob has moved on. The repair costs were too much to put into such an old truck, but a mechanic bought Bob and will do the repairs himself, so Bob will keep on trucking, pun intended! We’re not sure what we want to do in terms of replacing him at the moment. Gas or electric? For now we’re able to have our hay and supplies delivered without any trouble, so for the first time in many years we are a two-vehicle family again. 

I hope everyone reading here is calling your Congress people daily. If you need scripts and notices of the most important issues of the day, Jessica Craven’s CHOP WOOD, CARRY WATER is a very highly respected newsletter that will make resisting easy. And we all need to resist right now. 

This weekend I had wonderful writing group Zoom time and hopped back into my writing routine. We started this monthly Zoom time during trumpkin’s first administration and we are still here for this one. If you’re a creative person, keep going with your creative work. We bring energy to the world when we write, paint, sing, dance, sculpt, etc. 

The farm is still in winter dormancy. We pruned our beloved fig tree yesterday, removing several of its trunks that had encroached on the fencing and in most cases also had some damage from age. It was hard to think of cutting it back, but once we started we realized how much healthier it will be without the dead wood, without the damaged parts. May I note here that this too is a metaphor. Get rid of what does not work to make space for new and beautiful and productive growth. 

On the first day of spring in the Celtic tradition (Imbolc) I was gathering fallen branches and creating new berms, adding to existing brush piles, and checking bees and various other things on the farm. My daughter had alerted me that Keil Bay’s burial mound had composted down quite a lot, exactly as it is meant to do, and his hip bone was showing. There’s an old blog post about the day I saw Salina’s rib emerge from her burial mound. I noted that Keil’s left hip emerged during a time my own left hip was aching. We remain connected. I also noticed a tiny glimmer of white on another part of his mound. It was his left eye socket. I felt his kind eye on me that day. I can see it still, and I can feel the way it felt to gently cup my hand in a soft stroking of the fur and bone, how he would close his eye and lean his entire head into my palm when I did it. 

He remains with us here. Another grounding, protective spirit. 

The daffodils are sending up their green shoots. The bees are becoming active again. Spring is on its way. 

November Hill farm journal, 227

 

Keil Bay has been close in spirit this week. His card pops up regularly for me and always makes me smile. 

My big farm news is that something - I am not yet sure what - is putting nest material into my owl box. I it’s a deep box so the fact that the opening now shows something in there means (I think?) that it would have to be a larger bird than songbird. I use my binoculars to spy on it multiple times a day and it doesn’t look exactly the same any of the times, so it appears to be a work in progress. If we have an owl moving in I will be beside myself with joy!

The songbirds are flocking all over the native beds and our backyard with the snow we had two nights ago. It was a dry snow, less than 2 inches, but pretty and now melting away. We are in a warming trend right now with highs up to 37 today and then 40, then 50s, and I believe there is a 60-something on the fifth day out. I do love winter time but I am ready for a milder span of days for sure. 

I’m into my winter CE time and am completing training this week on using EMDR with children, couples, and then will be doing a more advanced course in EMDR which I’m so excited about. My work in this modality has been very rewarding. I’m going to be setting my sandplay studio up this spring which might allow for some work with children again and also with adults. I still have a little dream of a mobile psychotherapy vehicle with EMDR and sandplay that can go to where it’s needed. 

Writing wise I am moving along with the novel. In this case it’s at a turtle pace but it’s adding chapters and furthering the storyline in good ways, so I will not complain. I have a number of short-form pieces which are ready to submit, and in some cases re-submit, and that’s on the side burner for a day when I am in the mood to research submission places that will be good fits for this work. 

The horses and donkeys are soldiering through this cold spell. It’s on my list to get 16-gallon heated water buckets and a couple of good waterproof blankets for the donka boys. They have never seemed to need them and they of course always have shelter and nicely bedded stalls with hay, but as they get older (!) I want to have blankets on hand for them in case either shows signs of being too cold. 

I can see Rafer Johnson being very amenable to this idea, but suspect Redford will not be on board with this at all. We’ll figure it out and maybe just practice some with clicker and treats. 

Bear Corgi is 15 this year and he is now taking previcox in the mornings for arthritis and gabapentin at night to help him sleep. He has mild-moderate dementia and was marching around all night long. The meds have helped a lot and I hope will keep him happy and rested for more years to come!

Baloo turned 8 this month and Clem has just turned 6!

In February Redford has a birthday (as do I) and then we roll into the spring birthday domino game - March and April are our biggest birthday months. 

Can I already be talking springtime? 

I can’t write anything at the moment without noting the chaos of our country with the people who are perpetrating it. If you’re feeling stressed, fearful, angry, upset, these statements might be useful. 

We’re all in the same boat with this. Let’s sail forward together. 

Oak and Ice

 

November Hill farm journal, 226

 

It has been real winter here the past few weeks, with horses in blankets many nights and ice on troughs and now predicted snow tomorrow evening. 

I’ve been able to stay warm and have been working a lot seeing clients and puttering along with writing projects and other things. 

I haven’t done a thing in the garden beds for the past few weeks but thanks to so many native plantings the birds and bunnies and squirrels are staying busy foraging. It makes me happy to see the wildlife loving the messy but well-stocked gardens I’ve put in over the years. 

The herd is also keeping busy, grazing the hay we put out for them, enjoying warm feed tubs, and resting in the warm sun on the days we have it. Our truck is in repair right now and we missed the last hay co-op pick up as a result; it’s been like very old times going to get a few bales at the time from the feed store. I remember the first 9 months when Keil Bay and Little Man came into our family and were boarded, we were responsible for purchasing and storing our own hay on a pallet with our feed bins. This meant being able to stack up to around 10 bales at a time if I’m remembering correctly, and I would drive our minivan to pick the bales up. When you don’t buy more than that, you are always on the lookout for the hay you want/need. We’re not quite back to that but close enough! I hope the truck is back home soon and we can stock up the hay room again. 

The cats and dogs are also staying warm and cozy. If the power goes out with this coming snow/ice we may be returning to times past in another way and that’s the woodstove. We haven’t used it in recent years but we do have wood ready in case we need to heat the house!

I used to love snow and find it beautiful still, but I would be fine without it, and I am secretly/not so secretly hoping the forecast bombs and we get nothing. 

It’s also writing weekend on Zoom with two dear writer friends this weekend, and I don’t want to miss it. In the end though we’ll get what we get. 

Sending lots of love and light to southern California and all impacted by the horrific wildfires there. One of my dearest friends is there and is okay - hosting families who have lost their homes - and I’m so grateful she and her family have been spared that, though she says the air quality is awful. I hope this ends soon for them.