Seven little chickens sitting on a roost
One hen died and was set loose
Now they are scared and filled with fright
That something will come in the dead of night
Six little chickens sitting in the pen
Another one died and met her end
Now the other birds are terrified
That two of their flock already died
Will something get them after dark?
Or was it just a silly lark?
I hope we don’t lose anymore
I will not buy eggs at the store
I strolled around the garden
I rambled and I wandered
I drifted through the pasture
I wondered and I pondered
The flowers were fairly bursting
With shades in every hue
Marigolds, nasturtium
Bee balm, salvia too
Lettuce, beans and spinach
Tomatoes on the vine
Lovage growing taller
Amaranth and thyme
The beauty of the orchard
The lovely, charming fedge
The wonder of the pasture
The life at the pond’s edge
My cup, it runneth over
My life is pure delight
No sunset with its beauty
Can dim this lovely sight
Bee Balm
Nasturtium
Marigold
Beans
Okra
Posted in Garden Stories, Life, Poetry, Writing
The boys and I belong to a Forest School Co-op. We meet weekly at a park, forest preserve or nature center to play, explore and experience the great outdoors.
It is pretty amazing what the kids come up with no adult interference. They just play and let their imaginations lead them to new and exciting discoveries.
We met at a local park with trails that led to a beach. The kids had a blast building volcanoes, splashing through the water and finding shells to take home.
We were the last to leave the beach and we took what I thought to be a shortcut back to the van.
Turns out, I was wrong.
I kept thinking the trail we were on would lead us to the parking lot at some point.
Stubbornly, I did not want to backtrack. I just knew the parking lot was around the next turn.
“Just a bit further boys and we’ll be back to the van.”
The boys were wet and full of sand from their playtime on the beach. I was tired and starting to get irritated.
Then Joe saw a turtle.
“Look at that turtle Mom!”
Jake saw little minnows.
“Look, fishies!”
I saw the unplanned adventure we were on and my irritation melted away.
We were lost in the woods. Granted, we were on a trail and could hear civilization through the trees, but we didn’t know where to go to get to our van.
I pulled out a compass Joe had packed in his backpack, handed it to him and told him how it works. With a little help, he figured out which way we were facing.
We’d parked in a restaurant’s lot so I pulled up the map on my phone. We were a 20 minute walk from our van.
“Which way do we need to go Joe?”
“That way,” he said pointing to the flag on the map.
So we headed “that way” munching on apples and looking for birds, frogs, turtles and deer.
We came upon a wooden walkway where we saw huge dragonflies chasing each other and flittering from reed to reed.
Tiny fish were swimming in the water, a few small turtles were sunning themselves on logs and a big snake was slithering through the tall weeds.
It was one of the best adventures we’ve had because it was not planned. I could have let the irritation fester and negatively impact our walk.
But Joe saw a turtle and Jake saw a fish and, just like that, they pulled me out of my bad mood and into an amazing and unplanned adventure.
Adventurous boys
Taking me on their journey
Turning gray skies blue
Posted in Education, For the Kids, Haiku, Life, Poetry, Preparedness, Writing
There are so many gorgeous weeds on our homestead!
The first one I found turned out to be a variety of wild mustard.
The second hairy vetch.
I found this one growing tall and bushy in the pasture.
The taproot is fibrous
The stems are so thick
The flowers attract many bees
The tiny white flowers
The sweet smell of grass
The bushy and ferny green leaves
They tickle and prickle
They grow tall and wide
They swish and they sway in the breeze
What is it?
Posted in Garden Stories, Poetry, Writing
We spent a week in the Smokies on our first family vacation. I was a little nervous about being gone that long.
Would all my little plant babies be ok for that long?
Would our newly planted trees shrivel and die?
Would Pecky Greenleg and the rest of our new chickens miss me?
When we left, the vineyard was just starting to get wild.
The grasses in the pasture and the swales were just starting to get tall.
The fedge and kitchen garden were just starting to boom and bloom.
One week.
That’s how long we were gone.
Now the vineyard is…wild.
Hops gone wild
Close-up of the grapes
Now grasses in the pasture and swales are…tall.
Swales
Jerusalem Artichokes
Now the fedge and kitchen garden are…booming.
Borage and tomato row
Burgundy Amaranth in the herb spiral
Borage and tomatoes
Cabbage and broccoli patch
Brussels sprouts
We weren’t there to witness this burst of growth. And, even if we’d been there, we wouldn’t have noticed such a big change right away.
Growth is gradual. So slow that you barely notice it…until the day you do.
That’s the day you realize that the garden you’ve tended so diligently and with such care has grown into something beautiful…and you almost missed it.
You plant the seeds
You pull the weeds
You watch and tend with care
Until one day
You see that they
Have grown without you there
Posted in Garden Stories, Permaculture, Poetry, Preparedness, Writing
First hops creeped up the trellis
The kiwi close behind
The grapes were over zealous
They would not be confined
The mint spreads like a river
Borage peeping here and there
The gojis stretch and quiver
A tender, fragile pair
The vineyard grows and varies
There’s change from year to year
From just green leaves to berries
To snacks for kids (and deer)
Cascade Hops – Planted in 2013
Grapes – Planted in 2013
Grape cluster
Goji – Planted in 2015
Kiwi – Planted in 2014
Posted in Garden Stories, Poetry, Writing
Her wattle’s pink and sagging
Her comb’s seen better days
Her energy is flagging
No spark is in her gaze
She baulks and shouts in fury
Each time I move her legs
Her feathers raise and flurry
She tries to hide the eggs
We think it’s not much longer
Until her time is through
She isn’t growing stronger
She doesn’t have a clue
We’ve tried to let her ramble
We’ve tried to let her roam
Each night she starts to amble
Back to her comfy home
We don’t want her to suffer
We don’t want her to ache
So we’ll just have to snuff her
It’s really for her sake
Rose buds almost blooming
Deep magenta hues
Bees buzzing and zooming
‘Round and ’round they cruise
Leaves surround the petals
Light and green and new
And thorns as sharp as nettles
Down each stem stuck like glue
So fragrant, sweet and musky
In the morning dew
And in the night so dusky
The scent of sweet perfume
Posted in Garden Stories, Garden Stories, Poetry, Writing
I admit it. I was starting to get worried about the trees.
We planted more than 70 trees by the time it was all said and done and only the cherry trees were showing signs of life.
The rest looked like dead branches sticking up out of the ground.
Nothing from the persimmons.
No green buds from the apples.
Nada from the Paw Paws.
I wondered…did we do something wrong?
Did we dig the holes too deep?
Did we not spread the roots out enough?
I thought of that long Saturday when we planted so many trees and had so much hope for success.
I thought of all that research that went into the methods for planting each variety of tree.
I thought of the fun we had digging the holes, planting the trees and watering them in. The excitement of imagining what our pasture would look like in 2 years, 5 years, 30 years…the same excitement we felt when we put the swales in.
I thought about all these things…and I let the anxiety and worry go.
I realized that, while we put a lot of work into this project, we also learned quite a bit. None of that time and effort was wasted.
I remembered that we willingly took a risk in planting these trees, knowing that they may not, probably would not, all make it.
And suddenly, even though I still felt sad and disappointed, I realized that we did get something out of the experience…we got the experience.
And today, while the boys played, I took a walk around and found that the cherry trees weren’t the only survivors. Almost all the other varieties had started to leaf.
I just had to let the worry and anxiety go to see them.
Apple
An oak we found hidden between two fruit trees.
Persimmon
Paw Paw
I worried and I wondered
I gnashed my teeth and cried
All that work and effort
All those things we tried
Then I took a stroll
I wandered through the grass
I saw the bright green leaves
The trees had grown at last!
Posted in Garden Stories, Life, Permaculture, Poetry, Preparedness, Writing
Tall, gone to seed
Grew quickly like a weed
Seven bright green stems
Tasty little gems
Last week I saw one
I thought their growth was done
But this week I see eight
Growing tall and straight
We’ll let them go to seed
To get more than we need
We may have some to spare
So some of them we’ll share
Three years since the spring
We sowed them in a ring
Roots in shallow rows
In the spot we chose
Asparagus so sweet
I think next year we’ll eat
Steamed, roasted or grilled
Or raw and slightly chilled
Posted in Garden Stories, Poetry, Writing
a pinch of homestead 