Lilacs. They're beautiful, and their light, fresh scent serves as a signal that spring is on the way. Technically, I suppose I should say summer is on the way, but in this Catskill Mountain valley, seasons are a little behind. Lilacs spread by sending shoots up from their roots, and these shoots are fairly easy to dig up and transplant to wherever a new bush is desired. We've got a new little shoot coming up in the middle of our flower garden (where it's not actually desired) and that baby will be relocating in the fall!
Due to this propensity to root-sprout, and the ease of which they can be transplanted, lilacs are the perfect flowering bush to share with your friends. "Historical" case in point: the number of great, big lilac bushes you see along rural roads. Lilacs abundantly shared between neighbors, and still thriving long after the man-made home and barn structures have disappeared.
The next time you see a couple of large lilac bushes in what appears to be an empty field, take a moment. Peer through the overgrown grasses. Maybe you'll see the stone ruins of an old foundation, the wooden skeleton that was once a home. Roadside lilacs invite us to take a glimpse into the forgotten past.
The black cloud of Covid-19 has made the spring of 2020 one for the record books. It's changed the way we live and today, it's making a huge alteration in the way we celebrate. Our extended family on the farm consists of four generations who live in three separate abodes, and we'll gather in the yard (lawn chairs six feet apart) behind one of those abodes this morning for our pastor's prerecorded worship service. Later, we'll have our separate Easter dinners in front of ZOOM-ed in Virginia family members.
Happy Easter to you and yours, and here's hoping that you've found a creative way to celebrate!
pictured above, the first two new members of the herd--Minnow and...X-Box? 5 year-old Wyatt is our designated calf namer this year!
Here we go! Snowstorm #1 motivated us to get tapping before Snowstorm #2 hit two days later! Gideon and I finished tapping the trees we can get to yesterday. Running well today...sap runs through the tubing to our tanks to be collected with the truck and brought to our saphouse. Should have enough sap later tonight to start boiling!
Some chicks arrived at the farm three days ago, and Wyatt was only too eager to help out. He's a GO GO GO two-year-old, and I feared for the chicklet, but all is well and now he's back with his 59 brethren.
Don't you love it before the weeds overtake the vegetables? Our family tends a large vegetable garden--some of it in the ground, and some in raised beds--to provide year-round food for a of us. (OK. Liz and Gideon and Gramps tend the garden. Ron, Nana and I are slackers.) Our soil is very rich, and very good for weeds.
They will be showing themselves soon!
It's June now, and we syrup producers aren't spending a lot of time in the sap house now, because HAY. But we did make enough delicious pure maple syrup to still have this winter's "crop" available for your pancakes and French toasts, barbecue sauces, and salad dressings. Give us a call!
Before leaving for the library yesterday, I got out for a little painting time. This vista wasn't my original intention, but the scene 180 degrees from it vexed me in a way that wasn't making for happiness, so I turned around, wiped the panel "clean," and got to it with the green.
Riverdale is situated in a valley and in every direction there is always a mountain backdrop.
A sunny day on the farm after a week of dark, rainy days, and the cows are looking for company. It's almost warm enough to consider some plein air painting. Of cows? Perhaps--the herd (most of the herd) is down on the island now, and a pastoral scene with distant herd might be just the thing.
I pulled a calf out of a cow! She's the baby on the left.
It's the season. Our pasture is becoming populated with tiny calves and they usually sort of just pop out in the night on their own. Well, with some work by the mothers. BUT--
Wednesday morning, one young heifer--first time mother-to-be--had a little foot appearing and reappearing out of her backside for a few hours. No Progress. Eventually, Gideon was able to coerce her into a sheltered space with some hay underfoot, and he wrestled the chains onto the appearing and reappearing feet, and...
we pulled. Lots of pulling. And we pulled a big, white baby out!
It was awesome.