view from the middle of December

Why it surprises me that it's been longer than a month since my last post I can't possibly imagine. Time never, ever stands still. Everybody knows the earth spins just a bit faster in the days before the winter solstice. So maybe your days have been too full to have missed me.
After such an absence my initial impulse is to write a catchup post. I'll resist and make only one comment concerning this interval...it's been much too sunless. Grrr. SAD indeed.
Yes, Jonah Days come to all of us, but endless grey days certainly ramp up the speed at which our energies are consumed.
And the Christmas season tends to tip the scales. Often magnifying and multiplying a dark frame of mind. An image of Jacob Marley encumbered by yards and yards of chains and impossibly inconvenient boxes of gloom comes to mind.

I admit it isn't fair for me to spend time looking through your blog and instagram windows (which have supported my mental and emotional health these past many days, thank you) and not offer you the same opportunity. I will try harder.
The truth, I've been struggling of late.
This Friday began as the many days before it with dense fog. Grumbling to myself about another sunless morning, I had to admit it was beautiful. Humidity and temperature combine to create a hoar frost fairy land.

Still in my pajamas looking out the upstairs gliders into the densest fog we've seen in a long while, I could just barely make out figures moving in the mist just beyond the chicken yard. At first I wondered if they could be very large deer. Then, perhaps a few unusual cows? No! Several blanketed horses were moving as if in slow motion just ahead of a figure on horseback. Now none of my very near neighbors keep horses (though once a mare and her colt managed to escape and go out for a walk across our meadow.)  At just the right moment I was looking out and as mysteriously as they appeared they turned and faded into the mist. Wow. Magical.

After breakfast I sat down in the company of my internet friends and learned that I and my #friend each had been chosen to receive a framed print of a Silver Eye Finch offered in a giveaway by a beautiful business on the other side of the world, Ink and Spindle.

You can only imagine my delight. This was totally unexpected and all the sweeter because of it. I've secretly envied Gretta's internship there years ago. I've dabbled with silk screen printing, on a much smaller scale to be sure,  and have dreamed what it would be like to work in the company of these women.

I am a charter subscriber to Quiltfolk magazine. It is a quarterly, commercial free publication about people who quilt. Each issue is dedicated to a state, or a part of a state. I devour every page. Being a quarterly I lose track of when to expect it. What a joy for it to arrive as one more little proof that I was being cared for.

Westby, Wisconsin is a town just a few miles north of us. Not long ago this little town of 2200 passed a referendum to build a performing arts center onto their middle school/high school. It is now complete and has been the venue for many events. That evening this lovely new auditorium was presenting Isthmus Brass,

an ensemble Jerome and I heard a couple years back in our own historic Temple Theatre. We often talk ourselves out of leaving the house at night, but the weather had turned clear, the roads were dry and the drive short. We also wanted to check out this new arts center. The program was just what we needed to put us in the Christmas mood. They are amazing musicians, mostly teachers in the UW system, though from its many campuses across the state.
As we were heading home Jerome suggested we drive past a house in Westby that he'd seen on a facebook page. Their home and property a holiday light and synchronized music display.  They even have a radio link to their music so you could tune in your car radio to amplify the sound.
I did make an iPhone movie of it but alas the file is too large to fit here. Truth be told I would have trouble living next door to this production but it was fun to visit.

I begin to feel deep disconnect with creation when I'm unable to see the night sky. This night would be the first time in a while with a clear view. As I had earlier in the day, I stood once again in my pajamas at the upstairs sliders looking out , this time on the brilliance just beyond. Happy just to be seeing the thousands of lights in the blackness, I was totally unprepared to be gifted the longest shooting star I'd ever seen. It had a slightly green glow as it arced toward the horizon.
Then, snuggled in bed with my book in hand there came the sound of several coyotes very near the house. Their animated voices make me long to know just what they have to say for themselves.

Just before sleep there came one more blessing on my day,  the unmistakeable call of an owl, soon answered by another. And this lullaby ended my day.
It was a day of delights. Signposts so clear. Multiple gifts of grace.
I wish similar joys to come your way in these days of darkness.

realigning the personal compass

How have we gotten to the middle of November???

It takes me a few weeks to adjust to the time change. When we fall back I have to apply discipline and daily effort to resist my mammalian instinct towards hibernation. Especially in the face of shorter daylight hours, even when or especially when the skies are grey. And when the sun does shine, have you also noticed how deep the shadows are now?

Our weather seems too cold for this time of year. The soft and brilliant days of autumn gone much too soon. Last week we seized an afternoon of temperatures just above freezing to dig the last of the leeks, plant the garlic, mulch the raised beds. The next morning the thermometer was close to single digits and the chickens refused to leave their house all day. They haven't given us an egg since last Wednesday! a whole week ago! Poor birds are in the middle of their annual molt just when they need their feathers most.
It feels as if winter is in a hurry, and by a trick of the calendar, this year Thanksgiving is the earliest it can be. (And don't get me started on how soon the Christmas season is thrust upon us.) The relentlessness of pressure from the outside creates anxiety, confusion, helplessness.

It's time to shake it up folks. Time to apply the brakes and purposefully choose. To take deep breaths, stretch, eat well, notice, plot a course and steady on.

Help can be as near as your keyboard. Though virtual, the internet allows the forging of connections as real as blood and bone. I find great comfort and much needed light on dark days reading your instagram and blog postings, dear friends. You inspire, instruct, illuminate. Move me to look within, see with more clarity, move me to be a truer version of myself. To realign my compass.
Karen, of Sew and Sow Life in Vermont, posted a quote that has been resonating with me daily since reading it. Perhaps it will help you shift your attitude as well. Karen, thank you for so often saying just what I need to hear.

Sharing grace and magnifying joy and gratitude the power grows.
Can you feel it? The corporal power of shared grace and gratitude? I believe even the earth takes notice.

our treat

Our town has a tradition of trick-or-treating on Main Street Halloween afternoon from 3 to 5.
Businesses dispense treats and for a couple of hours families delight in slowly moving up one side of Main and down the other.

My amazing son-in-law, Matthias, has a shop in our downtown called Machelp. Since his opening nearly a year ago, the response to his services and to Matthias himself has been huge. Jerome and I volunteered to see to the trick or treaters so he wouldn't have to stop working.

Besides, Jerome has always loved seeing the kids in costume, and living out in farm country we don't get anyone at our door on Halloween. The past few years we've spent Halloween at Anne and Matthias' house in town so we could be part of the festivities.
Being new to this downtown event we had to estimate the numbers. We knew if the weather was pleasant there would be many. We estimated 5 to 6 hundred. We weren't far wrong.
The costumes were marvelous. Whole families were dressed and the handmade costumes incredible. I so enjoyed the little ones. One little girl made my day. Down the street from Machelp is an ice cream shop which was giving out ice cream bars. This tiny tot came to me with her ice cream in one hand and her jack o lantern for candy in the other. In the sweetest little voice she chirped "Trick or Treat!" Seeing the ice cream in her hand I said, "I know where you've been." And without skipping a beat she exclaimed "In Viroqua!" (And the name of our town is not easy to say!)
Seeing all of these wonderful families and kids was such a joy. And it helped to bring forward the memories of our own kids' many Halloween years.
I've been thinking about writing a blog post about how the young families I've gotten to know here bring me such hope. Here are links to two young women who have businesses in our town, are raising their children in ways I so admire, and who represent strength, respect, and creativity.
Rachel Wolf  and  Kathryn Ashley-Wright.
Viroqua is a magical place. And not just on Halloween.

oh, and that photo above? Matthias 2002! Couldn't find any other photo of him in what looked remotely like a costume in my iPhoto collection. love you, son-in-law!

autumn bliss

When we moved to this ridge meadow property there was just one fruit tree, a mature Cortland.

Our first spring we planned and planted a small orchard.

Many of these tiny beginnings came to early ends. But not all. You can see the survivors in the photo below. Our version of the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

This season our mini orchard has gifted us with a generous harvest of Fuji, Idared, Northern Spy and Liberty apples.
We've lost track of just how many bushels of apples we've given to friends and family since August. We've frozen them and made apple sauce, eaten them out of hand and on Friday we joined with our neighbors to make some cider.

Improvising, we used an old corn grinder from Richard's barn, and a grape press that we borrowed from the county extension office. At the end of the morning we had collected 4 gallons of juice. The prettiest, loveliest tasting nectar you can imagine. Combining all the varieties created an exquisite flavor.

Next year we've promised ourselves to invest in a real apple press and make lots more cider together, though we'll all fondly recall our primitive but successful beginnings.

the first day of the rest of my life

69 years ago today, Lolita and John welcomed a baby girl into their growing family. I like to say I was a Christmas joy baby, being born 9 months after the holiday. I only say this to tease my sisters, who were born on Sept. 22 and 24. And with brothers born on Sept. 4 and Oct. 4 I have to admit our parents enjoyed the winter holidays...
Seriously, though, this being my last year in my 60s I'm giving myself a promise: to prepare myself for the best possible physical and mental health for my 70s and beyond.
I have many bad habits that need adjustments. And my ADHD needs to be addressed to keep from losing focus. Insomnia tends to give opportunity for panic... I'll never live long enough to do all that I hope to. The light of day brings a better clarity. Choose and do.
Choose and do. My mantra for the year ahead.
Thank you all for your love and support, good wishes and kind words. For allowing me to know you when I've never met you. For keeping me company on the road to self. God bless.

living with those who share your space

This summer a mama decided her twin babies would be safe sleeping the day away in our meadows or under any one of our trees.

But for many days now we haven't seen mama at all. Her fawns now consider our ridgemeadow a sort of safehouse, considering us curiosities not threats.  And Jerome and I do not threaten despite our history with the considerable damage of their ancestors.

Our property is obviously a very established pathway for the deer on Asbury Ridge, the evidence clear in prints and scat and well worn plant life all over our acreage. We don't interfere and since we aren't subsisting on what we grow,  we can share. But it's disheartening when rose buds disappear in the night, blushing red apples hang on the trees with a single bite removed, beets are torn up literally from the ground.
The photo at the top of this post is how our gardens appear today. The winter photo shows how it appeared before we removed the yews and dug out the old flower bed replacing it with roses and peonies and the liberty apple.

As I'm writing this post a crew from Sacred Ground Landscaping is removing our pond. The fellows working today told us from the signs they see it's the neighborhood raccoon watering hole. Many of our neighbors have been seriously troubled by raccoons and have lost chickens and much of their garden produce. It is one reason we are absolutely vigilant about closing up our flock at dusk. We are not removing the pond to eliminate the coons. It was a decision made based on or our changing physical capabilities. It is the one garden on our landscape that we are no longer able to manage on our own. The area will be redesigned into an evening resting place, a bit of a secret garden with a fire pit and perhaps a solar water feature. Once the new soil is in place tomorrow we'll have to give it time to settle before we move forward. This new garden won't be planted out til spring, giving me the winter to dream of its possibilities.
The pond has provided water for so much of the wildlife that shares this amazing place. My heart is heavy that we are removing what they've come to depend on throughout the seasons. The decision wasn't made lightly and I'm still bruised by it.
It's always a wrestling match, mostly with our own hearts and minds, making decisions that will ripple out from the centerpoint. We do the best we can and then let go.
Perhaps this reads like a tempest in a teapot. But it's where I am just now.

lilies

We are making difficult decisions about our landscape that will be a better fit with our physical ability to care for our property as we continue to age. Changes are planned. Some have begun. But there will always be places for lilies in our gardens.
Reliable, undemanding, diverse, fragrant, beautiful. Bloom times extend throughout the season. All true.
Asiatics, turk's caps, orientals, trumpets, and the humble daylilies. I love them all.
I brought a few here from my garden in Illinois. Some were here when I arrived. Many I've added along the way. Here are a few:

stella d oro

big smile

happy returns

mary todd

casa blanca

stargazer

what Jerome calls ditch lilies, yes, I even love them for their tenacity

red volunteer

Are there lilies smiling in your garden?

Yes, it's been far too long since I've done a blog post. In the spring I graduated to an iPhone and have been using it to take photos and putting them on instagram. Some of what's there will show up here in the weeks to come. Some may not. You're welcome to look for me there. https://www.instagram.com/sallymomsprouts

Thanks for visiting.

"twisted fruit"

Before moving to the farm I had a long history of growing African Violets. But not a single one would grow well for me here. I've tried and tried and not a one has survived. Very sad, I tell you.

Two years ago I came upon a lovely little flowering plant at an Amish greenhouse. Its name is streptocarpus. It's from the Greek via Latin meaning "twisted fruit." A relative of the African Violet it is often called a cape primrose. The Amish call it a lady slipper. 

First residing on the front porch, then inside at the upstairs sliders with the orchids, within a year it multiplied into a robust mound of half a dozen plants and remained in bloom without pausing even once. Despite a serious attack of mealy bug, it has lived to multiply again. You see it in the photo above.

Naturally, last summer I was on the lookout for another variety hoping to begin a collection. I found only one. This little charmer joined the family.

This spring, after a year, it too has multiplied into many individual plants and will be divided and shared before being brought in for the winter.

Of course, this spring again I looked and amazingly I found three more flower types! None of them were in robust health but that didn't deter this new addict.

Aren't they lovely? This fall they'll get a plant stand of their own and be watched very carefully for the insidious little fuzzy invaders.  

By the way, garden centers sometimes sell their little cousin, streptocarella. It's a cutie, too. Clusters of smaller violet hued flowers on dangling stems. Cheerful. Friendly. 

And the humming birds that visit the nectar feeder out the front porch love them too.

thinking on tomatoes and second chances

My relationship with, or more honestly, my passion for, plants began early. As children we were required to help in the garden, usually given the task of weeding designated spots in the flower beds or vegetable rows. Now this assignment could just as easily have caused me to hate the garden. It did the opposite. My conversations with plants developed in those early years. (I was a child after all.) My understanding that interaction with plants was good for me developed later.

My father especially loved to garden. It was a pleasure he never lost. The day of his heart attack, his first words to me as I hopped into the ambulance before he departed for the hospital were "Don't forget to water the tomato seedlings!" Unfortunately, though those seedlings lived to be given to friends and family at his wake, he never lived to eat of their bounty. Today, my brother in Colorado, still raises tomatoes from the generations of seeds that he has saved from those seedlings in 2006. So, I'm not the only one of us kids who inherited the crazy love of playing in the dirt. In fact, all 7 of us kids have gardened for joy as adults. 

It is this idea of "garden for joy" that guides what I expect of myself and the gardens here on our ridge meadow property. My responsibilities as steward of this little bit of land in my care. My honest acknowledgement of what I am physically able to do. My goals are not to fill the larder for winter. Not to harvest the first ripe tomato on the ridge. Not to turn my joy into burden. To develop a balance of what I am capable of with what needs to be done as I age. To have fun. To have time to see and savor the joy.

Am I the only one who apologizes to the seedlings that get culled when thinning a row? Does anyone else comfort a shrub or a tree when pruning it? 

(Can you identify the plant rooting in the jar in the photo above?)

Every summer I like to grow something I've never grown before. I like to experiment with methods of growing the tried and true.

This year I am growing my tomatoes on hog panel trellises. With the weather we've been having the tomato stems have become fragile, in need of very careful handling. I actually snapped off a plant at the ground just by easing it over toward the trellis last week. Was all lost?

The first year I gardened as a newlywed, a cutworm had toppled a young tomato plant which I discovered when the severed plant was still fresh with dew. I popped it into a jar of water, it rooted happily, and eventually was replanted to flourish and fruit for the season. And so, 46 years later,  I didn't hesitate to do the same with this little one. As you can see the roots are coming along nicely. The plant is perky and fully of flowers. Soon it will be planted and then reintroduced to the out of doors. 

Do you sense a parable?