Farm: May 2005 Archives

You could NEVER accuse my husband of being a firebug or an arsonist. Bless his heart, building a fire is not his strong suit. Building a bondfire is not his talent. It was hard enough this winter letting him build a fire in the fireplace. Most days I built the morning fire and nursed through the day. Yesterday I finished cutting all the boxwood trees shrubs from along the edge of the road opposite of the orchard except for one. So much debris was beginning to pile up we started another burn pile. This morning Steven gave himself the chore of burning it. This is FAR easier said than done. We woke this morning to a light rain that change to a misting rain and then to a drizzle. This was good. My fears of the fire getting out of control was somewhat relieved. Steven used the tractor and cut a fire break around both of the piles. Then he started the fires. It took awhile. As I said he is NOT a firestarter. I was awake and sipping coffee when I heard a rumble. I thought one of the kids was up in the attic and had toppled something over. "Gracie?" I called up the stairs, "What are you doing? What did you knock over?" "Nothing, I'm just watching TV," she answered. "What was that noise?" I called again. "It came from outside, " Colby called down. OMG! I was in my pink flowered nightgown, grabbed an umbrella and slipped my feet into my waterproof clogs and head outside. "He has gasoline!" My head screamed. I walked out back to where he was at the two massive piles to be burned. He was having trouble getting the fire started. We talked a few minutes. "If I were going to start the fire I would pour just a little gasoline low at the bottom and light it." Having grown up in the country I am well aware of the dangers of starting a fire with gasoline. I am also aware that huges piles of debris do not start easily. It is common practice when a feild is cleared for everything to be bulldozed into a huge mass and then set on fire after a little dousing of a flamable agent. Steven did not listen. He poured gasoline over the TOP. I was watching and I swear I did not know what in the hell to scream at him. He stepped back about 10 feet, struck a match and tossed it onto the pile. VOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMPPPPPPPPPPFFFFFFFFFFFF!!!!!!!!!!!! That damn pile of limbs and vines came at least a foot off the ground and the percussion from it made the ground shake. I felt it pass through me. He is standing there grinning. "Did you see that?" I yelled. "See what? I was trying to watch were the match went." He NEVER saw the 6x6x5 foot pile lift up off the ground and smash back down. At this point my nerves were shot. I know I am not his mother. He is an adult, but by God some men need supervision. "What me to bring you a cup of coffe while you watch it burn?" I was high tailing it to the house! "That would be great, thanks." He was walking toward the barn for the shovel. I came in started another pot of morning coffee and got dressed. There was no way a fire like that was burning without my supervision. By now the rain had stopped and the sun was coming out. The first fire had been burning about an hour before I remember to get the camera. It burned far quicker than I thought it would. Most of the stuff was freshly cut. In less than an hour after the inferno began it was burnt to ashes. The larger pile which was 12x20x6.5 took hours to burn. I thought it would burn the quickest and the hottest. Everything in the bottom of the pile was dry but it turned out to be so compacted it took much longer to break it open and get the oxygen in to fuel a good burn. Finally at near 3pm the fire was burned down to mostly ash. While the fire roared we had enjoyed a little picnic lunch of sandwiches and chips and sat in the grass. He got up often to stir it up to help it along. I walked around and took some pictures of the peonies and roses. I took photos of the back of the house. I walked out to the road and took a photo of the area I had spent this week clearing. Remember what it looked like before? This is what it looks like now. I have one more bush to go! We are taking the rest of the day off. Steven has showered and gone to take a nap. I made potato salad and have pork chops marinating waiting to go on the grill. I also have a pot of butterbeans waiting to be warmed. I was planning to do NOTHING tomorrow. But you know the one about the best laid plans of mice and men? We signed a contract last night to sell the townhouse. We have to go in the morning before we go to his parents for a cookout/birthday party and pressure wash the deck and he has to fix a shingle and clean the gutters. Thank goodness an end is near. The people buying it want to close June 27. I hate waiting! I am ready to be done. The way it has been raining we will have to cut grass Monday and there is plenty of weed eating to do. So much for a couple days of rest.

On the very far edge of our property we have a cemetery. The only mention of this cemetery that I have been able to find is one in a book about a local church that shows the cemetery on an old map of the village drawn from memory and the original deed dated to when the man who built our house bought this piece of land. From the deed and local history we know it is the family cemetery of whom our village is named. We can identify eight graves. At least three appear to be adult sized and the rest are children or infants. The plots are marked with large stones at the head and foot but there is no marked headstone. I have been digging and researching and talking to people to try to accurately record who is in there. Having talked with several members of the historical society in this county no one was aware that a cemetery existed. No one at the library, tax office or clerk of courts knew there was a cemetery here. Having talked with Miss Ethel she only remembers one woman who ever had anything to do with the cemetery and I have traced that name to be a daughter of the man I believe to be buried there. All the pieces of the puzzle fit. I just have to prove it. Much easier said than done. As I have searched deed books, will books, marriage bonds, census records and abstracts from other histories written about our county I have come to know this family in a sense. Just as I have come to know the family and the man who built our house in 1909. The original owner of this piece of land was a tavern keeper. His father before him was a tavern keeper here as well. The corner from which you enter our property sits catty-cornered to two roads that have been major thoroughfares in Virginia's past. On our corner is a Virginia State Historical marker that indicates the encampment of the Marquis De Lafayette in June of 1781. The view from the orchard toward the road is the road that has been in use since before 1776. It was a major highway of the day. George Washington and Thomas Jefferson visited friends and collegues in this area. We have even had a chance to dine in a fine home where Jefferson was often a guest. The past comes alive for me as I sit and read. My imagination is vivid. I dream in color. It is 1778 and horse drawn carriages pass by on their way to the grand plantations where Jefferson and Washington will sleep. It is 1781 and I can hear the low murmurs of men camped under the trees, rolled up in their bedding, fires dying in the night as they await for the time to push General Cornwallis to the east. It is 1801 and James Madison has inherited Montpelier. It is 1817 and Dolley and James have come to make their home. It is 1864 and I can hear the beat of horse hooves as Jackson and Lee and Longstreet ride, camp and fight. It is 1909 and I can hear the train that once stopped in front our house where the owner had his general mercantile store, the post office and the train depot. It is 1960 and the village is quiet. There is no train, no store. It is 1990 and the most movement in the village is across the road where the post office now resides in an old store front smaller than my livingroom. It is 2005 and I close my eyes and am wisked away to another time and it all happened right here at my doorstep. The past is alive and I am part of history.

If you want to see how I spend my days click this link. I will be updating this post later this afternoon. Right now I have to shower and start supper. I am cooking butterbeans and pork chops and I have no idea at the moment what else. Notes: Hoss - The top of the house is an attic. It is a full attic with windows front and back. It could be a great room with an incredible view. It has a full walk up staircase just like the one in my downstairs front hall and my back staircase. It will be a long time before I get to the point we will actually do anything other than use it for storage. The kids do play up there sometimes. It is well lit with tongue and groove hardwood flooring. Up until recent years the house was knob and post electric wiring. Some of it is still in excellent shape too. The knobs and tubes are visible up there. We were told it might be a Sears house but have done a lot of research and Miss Ethel said it was NOT a Sears house. Her Daddy planned it and built it for her mother. I have a lot of history to document on this old place. Susie - Come help me! Bring the boys. They can play in the barns and run wild in the back field. MommaK - Bring your work gloves. We don't sit still for long. We can have tea inbetween hauling and cutting. MistressMary - I am taking a break today. It is raining down here. AGAIN!

I really love our house and little farm. If anyone had told me 2 years ago that I would be here now I would have told them to have their head checked and may have even called them a liar. I honestly never thought I would leave Georgia and all that I ever knew behind me. I am not one who adjusts well to drastic changes. I like things to remain as they are. I like living in one place and having order to my days. There is an odd feeling as we work and work and work some more to bring this place up to par. All the cleaning, cutting, hauling that comes with back aches and muscle pain and cramping hands and legs at the end of a weekend like this one leaves me with an odd sense of comfort knowing that in a few years all the really hard stuff will be done and it will be a matter of maintaining what we have accomplished. This is home. God willing and the creek don't rise this is were we will live out all the days of the rest our lives. We have put down roots and claimed this place as ours. It has taken me 38 years to get here. I like the here and now. I love the promise of the future in this place of snow and cool springs. I like knowing this is where our children will grow up and grandchildren will come to visit. It's a good life. Are you still traveling to your dream home? Have you settled down and sunk your tap roots in deep? If not, where do you think you will settle and stake your claim? As promised you can find the photo's of the house here: Farm House Monthly - May. P.S. I will be updating my reading list this week. I have discovered MORE great journals I like to read. An apology for the future - I may read your journal but I am horrible about commenting. Honestly sometimes I have nothing to say. LOL

Yesterday's post was heavy and emotionally draining for me. I know most of you avoided it and I can't say that I blame you. Today we are going to get back to the fun things. I have put together a series of before and after photos of some of the gardens here on our farm. The changes amaze me! In just 6 short weeks we have gone from being buried in snow to having lovely lush gardens. You can find the photos here. Allow the page time to load if you are on dial-up. It will open in a new window. I plan to finish putting together a similar photo series with the changes in the house from December when we contracted to by it up to this month when everything is blooming. How are your gardens coming along? I really want to know! You can also click here for the link to the photo page. I think my link color choice may be poor. I'll try to change it.