Skip to main content
  • Wet world

    The past two weeks of rain-washed, gray skies have led me to wonder if the world has flipped on its side and we are now living in what will soon be a rain forest.
  • Curious migration
    I continued to watch the video as Greg's reached into the frame hand placed a six-inch metal machinist's rule, that he often carries in his back pocket, beside the undulating snake-like thing.
  • Working out
    Our urban children call and say that they are on their way home from a good workout, and we have spoken with city folks who are proud to have personal trainers. We smile. For you see, we also work out – doing what our farm requires, outside in the creek valley humidity and sun.
  • A perfect weekend
    We watched fireflies dancing at the edges of the night field, and then we craned our necks back to watch the fire sparks climbing into the night over our heads. The clear sky was filled with stars and a brilliant half-shell moon.
  • The fox and the chickens
    The fox might be bold, but our rooster is a tough creature. He was missing most of his tail feathers and had a wound on his back, but with a bit of purple antiseptic spray he seems to be doing fine.
  • The thorns had a rose
    When I approach from the rear, the bees do not even know that I am there. They all fly straight out and up from their hive entrances, and never, or perhaps I should say rarely, circle around to the rear. I can crouch safely in my cleared pathway and quietly observe and know that all is well with my bees.
  • The little turtle
    Greg opened his hand over mine. Something cold and slightly scratchy fell into my palm, and I pulled my hand back in surprise. This was not what I had expected. I looked down and saw the littlest turtle I had ever seen. It was not even as big as a quarter and was so perfectly formed.
  • So much to do
    Gathering rocks is easier said than done, but I drove down to the old fishing hole, where it is a short distance to the creek's edge and large flat rocks are plentiful. I knew not to get wet rocks, as they would crack with the fire heat, so I gathered rocks that were far from the water and had been dry since the last big flood.
  • Puttering around
    Perhaps one of these days, we will have a self-operating farm where Greg’s gadgets keep everything running smoothly, and then we will both be able to travel together. Or, perhaps, we will just sit on the side deck and do nothing as the farm takes care of itself.
  • Food for the bees
    It has been cold the past few weeks, very cold. On the few warm days that the afternoon sun did shine down on the beehives, and the bees did venture out to fly, I was worried. I had not seen any sign of creek wildflowers; yet the bees were out, hungry and thirsty, after the long winter. Quite simply, they were in search of food – but there was none.
  • A gray day is OK
    Chores done, Greg and I headed back across the yard to the cabin. I had just packed the wood stove tight with logs before we headed outside. Gray smoke wafted up from the cabin's chimney and headed north to the edge of the woods before it dissipated into gray of the day. I knew that the gray smoke signaled the warmth of the cabin inside.
  • The creek wore white
    I noticed on our walk yesterday that the daylily shoots were close to four inches tall. The plum trees were covered with swollen pink buds, and several of the daffodils that I had planted along the road had already flowered. Spring was starting to awaken
  • Sweet dreams
    The day was gray and cold, but it was warm by the fire. We fell into the rhythm of adding logs to the fire and sap to the pan, as we skimmed bubbles off the boiling surface. By mid-afternoon, we had poured 10 gallons of sap into the stainless steel evaporator gallon pan, and the three and a half gallons boiling liquid had begun to turn a light brown. Wafts of maple scent began to rise with the steam.
  • The tortoise and the groundhog
    Later, it occurred to me that both the tortoise and the groundhog had erred. Only two weeks before, the groundhog had not seen his shadow, and had clearly predicted an early spring. Perhaps the two of them should get their heads together and better figure out this matter of forecasting.
  • What about Bob?
    It is that time of year when the kids are dropping to the ground like spring rain. It seems as though every time we turn around, there is another one jumping about the goat yard as though it had springs on the bottoms of its perfect little feet. Baby goats seem to be about the most happy creatures in the world, and they certainly seem to know how to make me smile. But Bob is different.
  • It is winter
    The white-gray day is starting to grow dark. I feel ever so content. The rabbit water bottles have been thawed for the second time, the chickens are closed up for the night, and soup simmers warmly on the cook stove. I light a beeswax candle. It is winter.
Subscribe to Christine Tailer