Showing posts with label farm. Show all posts
Showing posts with label farm. Show all posts

Thursday, July 13, 2023

Rosie's World (repost)

                                                        



Of course, many of you know that I base the Goodweather farm in the Elizabeth Goodweather Mysteries on ours. So, let's pretend for a moment, that we're in the setting for Old Wounds.

The top picture shows the barn (lower right) the Goodweathers lived in while building their house. To the left and a little above the barn is the chicken house (hard to see but important to the story.) Higher up is Elizabeth's house and to the right of that, you can make out Ben's cabin (or Little Sylvie's in Signs in the Blood). The multi-tiered garden starts just above the chicken coop.
                                         
  
The second picture is taken on the road that runs along the top of the pasture and into the woods. (We call it 'the New Road' as it was bulldozed for us only about 35 years ago. It doesn't actually go anywhere -- its purpose is mainly to provide a way to get the tractor or our little utility vehicle into the woods for firewood or for hauling fencing supplies.)

This is the road Elizabeth often takes a walk on and the big tree to the left is where the deer stand that the young Maythorn used as a spy post would have been. And this is where the young Rosemary followed her mother on a cold winter day, with an unwelcome result.

She trotted down the path, smiling to think how surprised her mother would be when she
appeared. A little way on and the path veered sharply as it wrapped around the mountainside. Just beyond that turn was one of the benches Pa had made for Mum so she could sit and look at the view. Maybe she would be there. Humming, Rosemary hurried on.

In the late eighties I (me, Vicki, not Elizabeth) used to walk our two Akitas on this path daily. They were large (over a hundred pounds each) dogs and, though lovely with people, completely murderous around any other animals (dogs, cats, chickens, etc.) So they had to be kept in the house and exercised on the leash. Once, when we had just hit this stretch of very uphill path, a squirrel ran across the road in front of us. Both dogs lunged at it, pulling me down, splat on my face. I hung on to the leashes like grim death and the dogs kept going, towing me behind them like a particularly inept water-skier. When finally, after they'd dragged me almost to the top of the hill, I managed to stop them and stand up, the top of my head was completely covered with dirt and leaf mold.

I digress. The last picture, if you'll look closely is of Froghead, the rock that sticks out of the pasture like a granite thumb, the place where Rosie first meets Maythorn. My boys gave it that name and it was a favorite hangout of theirs. Higher up the mountain above the house, is what they called the cave -- actually a little shelter under some huge boulders that lean against each other. This, of course, was the inspiration for Rosie and Maythorn's Cave of Two Sisters.                         
                                             

But, and some people have asked about this, there is no Mullmore, no faux-Tudor mansion on the other side of the ridge. I do use my imagination for some stuff!

Monday, April 20, 2020

Bob Bob Bob Bobbabobbob


This is Dave. Josie named her. Dave used to crow like a rooster but then she got in touch with her feminine side and laid 15 eggs in a nest she made in the hay shed. 13 hatched and are doing well.


When I was taking pictures down at the pond a few days ago, there was a great deal of mooing going on. Penny, who is a new mother, was calling her calf which wasn't to be seen.


That's John and Justin up on the hillside, looking for the calf. Justin spotted it under the multiflora rose just below him.


He got the calfie (whose name, I'm told, is Farthing) out and headed down the hill to Penny.


Bobabull the father was magnificently unconcerned.


Bobadog was delighted to help. And mother and child were together again.

(We have decided to name all the chicks Bob too. Because we know how happy it will make our friend Bobaguy.)



Wednesday, December 7, 2011

Time to Dig the Taters

The latest we've ever waited but last Sunday afternoon we finally got to it. Our nephew and his son, our great-nephew, came out for some farm time and to help with the harvest.
As usual, we were fully attended by dogs -- including Willa on a long, long lead. She was let off for a bit and was ecstatic to be running free but when she started down the road she had to be retrieved and releashed.
There were wooden crates lined with hay to store the potatoes . . .
Otis feels the cold and was happy to take advantage of the hay. 
Pit bull or snuggle bug? You be the judge.
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Wednesday, September 14, 2011

Harvesting the Hops

Those are hop vines growing up the side of our barn.  Hops are the little cone-like flowers produced by the female plants and they have been a traditional flavoring in beer since the eleventh century.

Nearby Asheville has become known for its micro-breweries and now some area farmers are growing hops to supply them.. Our friend Cory is a micro-micro- micro-brewer -- aka a home brewer -- and he thought he'd like to try his hand at growing his own hops. 

Since, however, he and his wife Kasie live in an apartment in Asheville, they have made use of bits of Justin's garden and our nice tall barn for this endeavor.
The strings the vines grow on can be lowered to make harvest easier.
Another traditional use for hops was as a sleeping aid. Using a small pillow filled with dried hops is said to produce drowsiness.

I haven't tried this as drowsiness comes all to naturally to me at the end of the day. Have any of you ever used a hops pillow?
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