Dance partner

By Christine Tailer
HCP columnist

I wouldn’t trade this country life for anything. It might seem as though we live far away from civilization. We can’t see or hear our creek valley neighbors, though town is just a few miles away. It is only when a thick fog blankets the valley, that we are reminded we are not alone in the world. It is then that we can hear river barge horns and train whistles echoing between the hills, traveling up the creek from the Ohio River, three miles to our south.

This past winter, however, has really presented quite a bit of a challenge to our life here in the valley. Day after day, we have either been drenched with rain or if not raining, the sky has been covered with thick, gray clouds, and if mud had any kind of pecuniary value, we’d have become millionaires many times over. It actually became so muddy that I couldn’t even open up the door to the truck and climb inside without getting mud all over my gloved hand, not to mention my clothes, and my boots left a hopelessly huge muddy mess on the floor mats. 

Still, Greg and I smiled and imagined how bored we would be if we lived in a mud free world. We found the challenge invigorating, and so, with what some might consider intrepid insanity, we dressed for the weather did what needed doing, and watched as the rain fell and washed our gravel driveway down the hill. It was far too wet and muddy to even think about putting the blade on the tractor, or firing up the old 580 D backhoe, so every day after the animal chores, we busied ourselves with inside projects rather than making an attempt to pull the gravel back into its proper place, until, that is, this past week, when the sun decided to shine.

And oh, how glorious the sunshine has been! I have always loved the sun, but now, having lived without it for so long, I found myself marveling at its existence in the overhead sky. Not only has the sky turned from grey into a wondrous blue, but sun’s warmth has shone down all around us. The temperature might still have been well below freezing when we first stepped outside, but somehow, with the sun shining, the valley weather seemed almost balmy, and my most fervent wish came true. I could step outside and climb up into the truck without acquiring any muddy adornment what-so-ever.

We realized, however, that this rain abatement period would only be temporary. Spring rains are inevitable, and so this past weekend we decided to take advantage of the opportunity and set about grading the driveway and spreading a new layer of gravel over the rut free surface. Now you might think of a driveway as a narrow lane that runs from the street to either the garage or entrance to your home. It is true that our driveway is a narrow lane, but it first passes between two fields, and it then runs for a total distance of over 500’ from the road to our home. In the process, it also climbs a rather steep hill that rises from the creek’s first bottom up to the second bottom, where we chose to build our home, safe from the perils of flooding.

Greg and the backhoe spent a day working the ruts and gulleys out of the driveway, and then, we stood back and watched with excitement as a lovely large dump truck dropped off two magical loads of gravel, about 36 tons in all. Greg climbed back up into the 580 D’s seat and went to work. I raked a bit, here and there, but mostly it was a one man, one backhoe job, and left to my own devices, I danced. When I would see Greg turning his head my way, I would stop my dance mid step and rake. Really, I found that my rake was the perfect dancing partner. It carefully guarded my dancing secret, and quickly caught on to the dancing work ethic of utter enjoyment.

The day passed quickly and just as the sun passed over the valley hill behind the cabin, Greg parked the backhoe at the bottom of the driveway and climbed down to survey his handiwork. The rake and I scooted a few loose pieces of gravel out of the grass and into the driveway, and then, rake in hand, I ambled over to stand beside Greg. “It looks beautiful,” I exclaimed.

“Why thank you,” Greg said. “You and your dance partner looked pretty good, too!”

Christine Tailer is an attorney and former city dweller who moved several years ago, with her husband, Greg, to an off-grid farm in Ohio south-central Ohio. Visit them on the web at straightcreekvalleyfarm.com.