Mushroom memories

Mushroom season is here.

Although I won't be hunting morels this year, I am indulging myself in mushroom memories.

You won't be surprised that these memories involve Mimi,

who delighted in this seasonal treat.

The mushroom was wonderful 

 but the hunt, out in the spring woods at the farm,

seeking out those hidden sites

 and finding the well-hidden treasures

ah - that was a triumph!

All the more fun with a Mimi picnic on the farmhouse porch afterwards.

Oh Mimi, I miss you in Mushroom Season!

Chicken society

Cogburn is a very fine rooster who showed up one morning in a friend's barn.

Of course then she had to build him a coop and of course he needed company. 

Here they are: the red-heads are Lucy and Ethel, the black one is Teresa.

Cogburn struts and crows and bosses his adoring hens .

 When I visited they were doing regular chicken things.  Clucking, scratching, pecking - nice respectable activities.  Clearly these are the sturdy, stable, dependable chickens who make this such an example of a prosperous middle-class flock.

 But there was one more...hiding inside, peeking cautiously out.

There, on the fringes of society, an devilish independent fellow --

the aristocratic but mad Polish count.

Yesterday's Post

Happy Seventh Birthday to my favorite cowboy...

Whatever you are looking for this year

I hope you find it!
Hope you had a great birthday.

Preview of upcoming events

Just a note to say that today's birthday will be celebrated and blogged at a future date.

What I'd like to take away...

The farm has been sold. The house is being emptied. Mimi asks if I want anything.

Yes, I do.

She means, do I want a table or a lamp? But that isn't what I want.

I want the driveway.

I want the walk up from the front gate to the house.I want the walk from the house down to the road and across it, over the pasture to the creek.

I want the cool creek on a hot summer day.

I want the sound of water flowing and insects singing.
I want the sunlight dappling the water.

I want the barn.

I want the dusty light slipping through the walls of the old hayloft.I want the dim shade inside and the bright green light outside.I want the autumn light and the long shadows of evening.

I want the early morning light on the spring house.I want the textures of stone and leaf and bark and moss.I want morels and bluebells in the spring.I want pears and persimmons in the fall.I want the steady springtime chant of frogs from the branch,

and the bawling of calves looking for their mothers.

I want the echo coming back from the barn of voices from the porch.

I want the honking of geese overhead

and the mysterious calls of owls far off in the hills.

I want the quiet still waters of the quarries.

I want the tickle of fish nibbling my toes as I float above the rocks.

I want the porch full of people,

and the picnic table full of food.

Yes, my list goes on and on.....

But since I can't have what I want, Mimi, I'll take the dresser and your grandmother's coasters.

That was then, this is now

Mimi has been sharing some old farm pictures with me. Here's a view of the house and the big barn from the hill to the west.
This picture was taken about 85 - 90 years ago - before the quarry was dug, back when Mimi's grandparents were actively farming the land, and when her dad was a young man growing up there.

Here's a picture of the house and the big barn from this past summer - from not quite so far up on the west hill. Quite a few changes! I'm amazed at the growth of the woods in just a lifetime.

Return to the farm, part two

The quarries hold the eye at any time of year, but in the Fall they seem especially dramatic.

Those tiny specks on the water are a huge flock of geese swimming madly away from us. Can you see the buzzards soaring overhead?
We walked all the way around the upper quarry to look back at the cliff where we first stood.
Then we went down to the lower quarry, quiet and mysterious behind the trees.
Mimi gathered juniper with frosty blue berries to go with the bright orange bittersweet we cut.
I was surprised to find the rock piles overgrown with sycamore and sumac. I remember climbing over stacks of naked limestone with little kids and a furry black terrier - running up hills of discarded, crushed stone - all of it now grown into woods.
Granddad waited patiently back at the house for us, watching down the driveway.
He knew lunch wouldn't be served until we returned. And there's nothing better than a farmhouse lunch with fresh tomatoes and corn and crisp apples.

As we gathered pears to carry home, we wished you all could have been there with us.

Return to the farm, part one

Last Spring Mimi and I had the first "picnic" of the year at the farm. Today we returned for a Fall "picnic". The day was overcast and warm, the leaves soft and muted colors.
The old pear that amazed us in the spring with blossoms -

(and still so hollow at the foot that one can't see how it stands up)
now amazes us with a bounty of pears.
Granddad sat on the porch swing and swung (the cane is useful for pushing one back and forth). Socks kept him company.
Mimi and I took off for the hills
and, just where we found morels last spring, we found another well concealed treasure. This one we did not carry home with us!